


Lap Dog

by Genuflect



Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine
Genre: AU, Biting, Cuddling, F/M, Fluff, Hearing Voices, Ink, Misogyny, Monster Bendy, Moral Ambiguity, Stealing, Teeth, Transformation, Violence, being leashed, blaspheme, cartoon bendy, dog harness, ink blood, ink vomit, selective mutism, sleepover
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-07
Updated: 2019-08-02
Packaged: 2019-10-23 19:38:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 32,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17689595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Genuflect/pseuds/Genuflect
Summary: A promotion binds you to the tedious task of babysitting an unpredictable demon. Leashing him into a dog's harness, you keep him from causing havoc. But when you've known the curious little toon for so long, how will you cope when he changes into something... totally different?An AU, obviously. You're a script writer and Bendy starts out as his lil' cartoon self. Things start simple, then spiral down from there.





	1. Lap Dog

**Author's Note:**

> Very, very AU. I've been typing this stuff in my free time, between original works. As usual, I end up coming up with chapters as I'm trying to fall asleep. Then I write it out later for fun :^)
> 
> It's not currently finished, but luckily a lot of chapters don't necessarily require me to write more. But if you enjoy and would prefer me to add on, please leave a comment or kudos! <3

Mr. Drew felt, given your easy temperament and ability to retain a stern, commanding voice, that you'd be perfect for the job. It had made you swell with pride. What a compliment! Besides that, as a script writer, you would keep his little creation far, far from the most important parts of production. That part... enthralled you less. Essentially, you were deemed _'not as important'_ to production.

 

Mr. Drew believed writing was easy. _Apparently._ So how hard could it be to watch after a demon while still continuing your previous work?

 

It had been difficult at first. With your twenty-five cent raise, you were given very little else to accomplish this feat. Somehow, you were supposed to contain and subdue Bendy. Allll by yourself, with no help. It sort of made you feel like Mr. Drew was mocking you.

 

But, with a little quick thinking, and with money from your own paycheck, you mustered up a genius plan. You were going to catch him and strap him into a dog harness. From there, you could lock the latch and leash him, giving you an easy way to keep up with the lil' devil. He would no longer be able to avoid you by clamoring up into the vents, or hiding in empty office spaces.

 

Catching him had been the first issue. Because he was three feet tall, he was slippery. You had to be constantly on guard in case he popped up. He'd been very clever with avoiding you after Joey had demanded he obey you. So, you just kept the harness on hand at all times.

 

You finally caught him in the break room. He'd had his back turned and, like the little shit he was, was pouring salt into the coffee pot. All you had to do was sneak up behind him. From there, it was like wrestling a greased pig. He completely ruined your work clothes.

 

Bendy didn't speak very frequently, but he did a lot of talking during that first day.

 

“This is too tight! I'm suffocating...”

 

You stuck two fingers under the harness, judging the looseness. He had plenty of breathing room, assuming he breathed at all.

 

 

“Hm. Feels fine to me.”

 

“You're wrong! [Y/N], I'm dying! You're killing me! Some fine job this is, Joey will be pleased as a peach when he finds his precious and most favorite actor belly up! All because of _you_!”

 

You rolled your eyes. “And I'm sure he's happy about me parading around work with ink soaked blouses, too. Come on, keep up!”

 

He whined and fell limpy onto the floor. You had to physically drag him by the leash to get anywhere for nearly a week. Everywhere you went a long streak of black trailed behind you, muddling the clean floorboards. The janitors had been pissed, so Mr. Drew had been, too.

 

Bendy was tracking you with his beady little eyes when you left Joey's office after a scolding. He didn't say anything, but his posture and expression said it all. He was pleased with himself.

 

“If you get me yelled at again,” you'd wagged your finger. “I'm going to lock you in a cat carrier and carry you around that way instead!”

 

That frightened him. Oh, how embarrassed he would be to be carted about like a pet. So he walked, but at an annoyingly sluggish pace. Sometimes he'd stoop low to pick up something off the ground, like litter. And sometimes, he'd walk so close to your feet that you nearly tripped. You didn't dare attempt to pick him up, knowing full well that he'd ink up the new clothes you'd bought with your raise.

 

Yes, it was very difficult at first. The first time the two of you shared anything that resembled understanding was after a night that was, apparently, very hard on the demon. You'd arrived early to work that day. Bendy had not been found tied up in your tiny office space, where you'd left him. Rather, you'd found him trapped in the music room, where the in-house band recorded music.

 

He'd been tied to a pipe, but he had burst the pipe in the middle of the night. It made you nearly regret your methods of containment, knowing he was so easily yanked around by any who held his lead. The only reason he had yet to escape the music room was because someone had thought to securely lock the door behind them, and the vents were high in the ceiling.

 

When you got the door unlocked, there was half a foot of watery ink coating the floor. It rushed out as the door creaked open. The broken pipe had trickled ink all night at a low pressure.

 

Bendy had been... shaken. You asked him what happened, who locked him in the room, but he was reluctant to answer. Very silent that day. You'd been able to swaddle him in a blanket without incident, to which he then curled up under your desk for a good part of the morning.

 

When you said it was lunch time, he grabbed your ankle and shook his head. Though he didn't speak, you could see the anxiousness in his eyes. Instead of eating, you had sat on the floor with him and talked.

 

“You know... you're my responsibility now. I'm the one who is supposed to watch you, to make sure you don't get in any trouble. But if someone threatened you, in any way, you need to tell me. I'll tell Mr. Drew, and he can deal with the culprit appropriately.”

 

Bendy, who was still under the desk, had his head turned away and looked blank.

 

“I know you're supposed to be bad. But I can't help it, look at you. Maybe you're no God send, but you can't really be a devil, either. Let me help.”

 

After a silence, you reached your hand out with uncertainty. He tensed when the back of your finger just barely touched his cheek. A gesture to calm and draw attention. When you returned the hand, you found no stain. That was a first. He was rather solid today, despite being so scared.

 

His head finally turned to you. “...He just wanted to talk. He didn't hurt me.”

 

“Who?”

 

“Sammy.” Bendy's eyes went back to staring at wood, but he continued on softly. “He said he wanted to know what it was Joey did, because Joey won't tell him. I don't know what that means, but I didn't like how he looked at me.”

 

“Why'd he lock you in there?”

 

“Wasn't done. I think he meant to take me back here, but you arrived before him.”

 

“And he really didn't hurt you? Are you okay? You've been under that desk all morning.”

 

His tail flickered and he shrugged. “I don't like Sammy,” he replied simply.

 

He'd sulked for the rest of the day. The days following that, however, passed by smoothly. Bendy didn't try to trip you any more, and he'd taken to staring at you when you worked. You didn't mind, as long as he behaved.

 

After that, you'd started locking him in your office at night. You never again clocked in to find a missing demon.

 


	2. Lunch

It was lunch time. And, because you had to look after your charge, that meant that the two of you would be eating together.

 

Bendy didn't exactly digest. When he'd eat papers, be they scripts, storyboards, or reports, he'd eventually retch them back up in a ball of wet ink. Like a hairball, or an owl pellet. It was disgusting.

 

So, it may have been lunch time, and the two of you may be in the same company, but you would not give Bendy a scrap of your food. Not even if he sat across from you and stared you down. Which was what he was doing.

 

“No.”

 

He kept staring, eyes flicking from the sub to your face.

 

“NO. I'm impervious to your face by now bud. Better quit it,” you lied.

 

Bendy's cheek hit the tabletop. Still staring.

 

You rolled your eyes and just began to ignore him. He wasn't exactly asking for food, but he was _really_ giving you the eyes. If he wanted something, he needed to open his mouth and ask. Bendy was funny like that. He had a voice, but only used it so often. You probably wouldn't get much out of him. He'd been relatively quiet throughout the day, other than cackling after he'd tripped somebody using his leash.

 

The sound of foot steeps creaked down the stairs, and laughter from an unheard inside joke carried into the break room. You glanced over your shoulder, but quickly went back to your lunch. Things with the other staff were... awkward now. A handful were jealous that you got a promotion. However, the majority tended to stray away from your path, knowing you were tasked with the unholy task. No one wanted to be around Bendy. He gave people the creeps, save for Mr. Lawrence.

 

As the feet met the floorboards you heard a quiet _'oh.'_

 

Bendy had perked up from where he was using books as a booster seat. He kicked his feet, chin resting on the back of his gloved hands, and stared at them. Wriggled the digits of one hand a little.

 

The demon knew the reaction he got from humans. They always walked the other way when they saw him. Some even went out of their way to avoid ink stains in the hall all together, for fear that he would be around the corner. Usually, they weren't wrong. But, being strapped to a harness kept him contained. He could not run amok. Didn't stop the staff from avoiding you now, even if ink stains no longer screamed 'run.'

 

There was quiet whispering. You knew they were talking about the two of you. Still, your peers went about to making a fresh pot of coffee while one had a smoke, keeping to themselves on the other side of the room.

 

You tried to ignore the looks, but Bendy had turned his eyes on them and did not look like he would quit any time soon.

 

“Bendy,” you whispered harshly, trying not to draw attention. “It's not polite to stare.”

 

He glanced at you, shrugged, and kept on.

 

After a few minutes, someone cleared their throat behind you.

 

“Here, I think you may need this. God bless your soul,” came the pitiful voice of an animator.

 

He slid a brand new Bible onto the table, totally ignoring the harsh glare from the cartoon at the other side. Then, before you could speak, he walked away on swift, nervous feet.

 

Bendy growled. Really, truly growled. The thorn of his tail lashed, thumping against the chair.

 

“C-calm down, they mean well,” you comforted, idly thumbing through the thin pages. “You've been in a real mood today.”

 

He gestured wildly for you to hand over the book. When you didn't comply fast enough, he climbed upon the table and ripped it from your grasp.

 

“Bye-bye!” he cheeped, tearing out pages one by one with so much aggression that you'd think he'd spring a leak. Bible verses fluttered and fell across the table, drifting to the dirty floorboards.

 

Someone across the room gasped, and you whipped your head around, horrified. After some terribly awkward eye contact you stood abruptly and grabbed the Bible in Bendy's hands.

 

“Stop! Right now!”

 

You jerked it, and he jerked back just as hard.

 

“Give it to me!”

 

“No!”

 

“Bendy,” you warned.

 

In an act of desperation, he tore open his sticky, drippy maw, and clamped down on the tattered book. Sharp fangs sank into its' flesh.

 

You were forced to fling your hands away, as if burned. He'd almost bit you! Those nasty fangs nearly met your skin, saved by hardly an inch. That would have drawn a hell of a lot of blood. You didn't even know he _could_ open his mouth like that.

 

The whole room was forced to watch, in horror, as he zealously shook the book in his mouth as if he were a rabid junkyard dog. All the while, thick blobs of ink splattered anything within five feet of the little ball of fury. That included you. While you were dabbing ink off in shock with a napkin, he was busy throwing up his head and choking down the Bible with all the grace of a baby bird. It was small enough to get down, lucky for him. He would have just choked otherwise.

 

You put a hand to your forehead, exhausted. When you glanced towards the coffeepot your peers were gone, likely having fled up the stairs without coffee or lunch. You sighed.

 

“What's gotten into you today? You're acting like a total- a total demon!” You realized what you'd said.

 

Bendy _was_ a demon. This was why your co-workers were sliding you Bibles in the first place.

 

“Bendy,” you sighed again. “you know that's going to come back up, right? And that I'm going to force you to clean it up?”

 

He stood stiffly upon the messy table, arms crossed and frowning. His sharp teeth were gone. Now, he just looked like regular ol' Bendy. The demon turned his head away and harrumphed.

 

“And look, you got ink all over my lunch.”

 

He did look. And he felt bad. “...Sorry.”

 

You stared at him a while, before a merry tune filled the hall above the break room. No doubt, that was Mr. Lawrence whistling. He was probably coming down for lunch.

 

You panicked. “Quick! Pick up the rest of the papers! Hurry Bendy, we can't let him see this mess!”

 

The two of you frantically started to swipe up the litter, but it was too late.

 

“Ah! Caught you!” Mr. Lawrence chimed, piddling down. “A couple'a animators came rattling off down the hall, about a certain someone in the break room. Need a hand?”

 

Bendy gave the staff the creeps, but Mr. Lawrence give the creeps to _you._

 

“Um... sure, that's really kind of you Mr. Lawrence. Thanks.”

 

He hummed as he scooped up a couple of papers. Bendy looked nervous, and stayed closer to you than need be. Perhaps the man gave him the creeps, too. Memories flooded back to you, of they early morning when you'd found Bendy trapped in the music room at the hands of Mr. Lawrence.

 

After a moment, Mr. Lawrence glanced at the ink splotched sheets in his hands. He titled his head. “Oh dear. You didn't tear up the _good book_ in front of your colleagues, did you [Y/N]? Perhaps this promotion is getting to you. It must be damaging to dote on a creature as special as Bendy, I suppose.”

 

You did not like the way he enunciated ' _special.'_

 

Frozen, you stammered. “N-no! That's not what happened at all! I would never do that to a Bible, sir! I-I-I suppose... Bendy got hungry?”

 

Bendy grinned awkwardly. He most certainly did not get hungry. He just hated the nasty stares, and God in general. But it looked like Mr. Lawrence was considering the idea, and that was all that mattered.

 

“I see,” he squatted down. “...Perhaps I'll bring you a little snack here and there, then? If [Y/N] is starving you so badly that you have an outburst like that, it seems I may be forced to.”

 

_He believed it._

 

Then he patted Bendy on the head, to which Bendy's solid form liquefied at the touch of skin. Mr. Lawrence came away with a very black palm. He stood and acted as if this was not a problem at all, barely acknowledging it.

 

“Hahaha, no need! I have plenty of Bibles! He just got a little excited, is all! Well, we got to be going!”

 

Without hesitation, you tugged on Bendy's leash and sped away up the stairs, leaving the rest of the mess to Mr. Lawrence without thought.

 

Down the hall, you finally relaxed. You didn't know exactly what it was about that man that threw you off. He was generally cheerful and friendly, but there was this sinister air about him. It was as if he was never saying just what he was thinking. _Fake_ came to mind. And his interest in your charge meant that you frequently ran into him, even when you didn't expect to.

 

You finally glanced back at Bendy, concerned. He was walking slowly behind you, just enough to keep up on his short legs. His eyes were down cast.

 

“Are you... okay?”

 

He looked up as if he forgot you were there. He nodded after a pause.

 

“Mr. Lawrence,” you whispered, glancing around suspiciously. “has some serious personal space issues. It was sorta funny how you wet his hand though. He deserved it.”

 

That made him smile, rather proud.

 

“...Don't think this means we're not going to talk about that outburst you had in there, though”

 

And the smile was gone.

 

Only then you noticed he was clutching something close in his arms.

 

“Hey. What's that you've got?” you asked softly.

 

He held it up. In the rush to leave, you'd forgotten your half eaten lunch. He'd grabbed it, and there it was.

 

“Oh, thank you! But... I can't eat it, it's covered in ink,” you scratched your head awkwardly.

 

He looked down at it, then back up to you. Back down at the food. Back to you.

 

“Oh. No. Please, don't. _Bendy don't you d-_ ”

 

He parted his maw, sharp fangs glistening, and swallowed it down without chewing.

 

You groaned.

 


	3. Off Model

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> do i know how filming worked in the 30s? absolutely not :) typed this anyway

Mr. Drew tapped his foot impatiently. “You're off model **again**. Come on Bendy, I know you can do better! The star of the show has! To be! On! Model!” He punctuated the words by slapping the back of his hand to his palm.

 

Bendy's arm fell to his side with exhaustion. He looked annoyed.

 

Alice Angel, who had been newly formed less than a week ago, offered her cohort little more than a pitiful expression and shrug. She had no voice, so could offer no consolations.

 

“I didn't create you to look like that. Start over! Just start over! And for the love of God, someone clean him up.” He flung his arms up, shaking his head.

 

An intern rushed onto the scene with a stained rag. She squatted and dabbed his face, where strains of thick ink had begun to dirty his pristine, white forehead. It smeared, but with a little scrubbing and a dab of saliva, she got him back on model. She darted out of sight just as quickly as she'd came.

 

The scene was reset and the camera man yelled. “From the top!”

 

All he had to do was pick some flowers, skip over, look smitten, then offer the flowers to Alice. That was it. But something was wrong, and he felt it. Every time he looked at at the taller toon, and when he knew the cameras were focused heavily upon him, he started to... melt. That was the best word for it. Melting. Only, he didn't understand why. It just happened, and he couldn't control it. Sure, he'd always been only semi-solid. But it was getting worse. It made Joey's chide remarks cut even deeper.

 

Bendy glanced over at you blankly, awaiting his cue. You gave him an encouraging smile. This was the seventh try, and you could clearly see both Bendy and Mr. Drew were growing more and more frustrated.

 

This was 'the future,' Mr. Drew had said; live action cartoons would dominate the television some day. They'd grace stages and theme parks, movies and radio stations. This was one of the reasons the cartoons had been brought to life.

 

Finally, it was his cue. Bendy's smile spread wider than before, strained. He wrung his hands, watching Alice's silent singing (to be dubbed over later), and looked around frantically. Soon he had plucked the faux flowers and inched towards the angel as her outdoor performance stopped. He gently lifted his head, as if calling her attention.

 

She looked down with surprise, the wildflower bouquet lifted high. But as Bendy turned his head away in bashfulness, Mr. Drew yelled.

 

“ _God damn it!_ Cut! What the Hell did I even create you for if you can't retain your form for more than a minute!”

 

Bendy and Alice both flinched. You were pretty certain anyone within ear shot did, too.

 

Mr. Drew took a deep breath, as if he were centering himself. He shut his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose, before opening back up and going on. “Let's call it a day, people. We may have some kinks to work out before we push forward. But a little set back like this won't stall progress! So chins up!”

 

Then Mr. Drew pointed towards Bendy. “You. After you're done helping clean up your mess-”

 

Bendy only then realized he has begun leaking generously all over the grass.

 

“-come to my office.”

 

The skeleton crew started the tedious task of packing up, while Mr. Drew stormed away into the building. You noticed that Alice was trying to reach out to Bendy, to share a solemn look, to do anything to offer a little comfort. But Bendy was just staring down at the mess he had made. He dropped the plastic flora into the ink and stomped away, leaving Alice to frown at his back.

 

As his assigned keeper, you followed. Even though he was off his harness for the shooting, he had not strayed far. You found him under the shade of a tree, knees to his chest and back to the bark.

 

“Mr. Drew wanted you to help tidy up your mess.” you said quietly to get his attention.

 

He twisted his head away, angry and hurt.

 

You figured that you'd perhaps said the wrong thing, so added. “But he can also be a real piece of work.”

 

He didn't respond, so you sighed and took a seat. A calming wind fluttered the leaves above, and you could hear the crew in the distance, wondering where 'the star' went.

 

After a moment, Bendy finally bore his eyes up at you, looking terribly miserable and confused. “What's wrong with me, [Y/N?]”

 

You furrowed your brows. “Oh Bendy, there's nothing wrong with you! Joey is just a huge jerk. Don't tell him I said that, he'd probably fire me on the spot!”

 

“No, I mean...” Bendy wrung his hands, but unlike before, this was a natural gesture. “...this!”

 

He pointed at the stream of ink that was oozing down his white face. It was just a little bit, threatening to merge into his eye. He'd become mostly solidified since wandering to the tree, but was still very sticky and unstable.

 

“That's not on purpose? I thought you could control that.”

 

He shook his head, and began to pick nervously at the grass. Occasionally his tail flickered, and you could see where tiny droplets blackened the blades as it twitched.

 

The little monster really couldn't control it? You'd thought he was doing it to spite Mr. Drew, for whatever reason. After all, he was always messing with the other staff, so why not his creator?

 

After processing the information, your emotions got the better of you. You placed your hand upon his shoulder, drawing his attention. He tensed, but did not flinch away.

 

With a reassuring smile, you replied. “It's okay, I'm sure it's nothing. Maybe you just... need more ink?”

 

Bendy just looked up at you, sad as ever. It was amazing how expressive his face was, despite the limitations of his eyes and mouth. His eyes seemed to frown as much as his teeth.

 

“O-oh,” you gasped softly. “Bendy, it's okay! Don't cry!”

 

He tilted his head. “...Cry? Is that what I'm doing?”

 

You tried to wipe away the thick blob of ink that drizzled down his cheeks, but it just smeared across the white. Now he looked like a drawing where one attempts to erase the under layer of graphite before the ink has dried.

 

“Shit. I messed your face up.”

 

He actually giggled. Was he hysterical?

 

“Ladies shouldn't curse.”

 

You rolled your eyes. “You spend too much time near Mr. Drew.”

 

Bendy sprawled his legs out straight, which was a welcomed sight. He was relaxing, at least a little bit. His eyes went back to the grass. A fat drop of ink fell from his face and sullied the green.

 

“Joey is gonna yell at me, [Y/N]. Wants me in his office.”

 

You went back to his shoulder and gave his arm a comforting stroke. “Well... when he's done being a donkey's rear end, I'll treat you to something nice. How's that?”

 

That did not change his mood. “I'm... scared.”

 

In turn, that scared you. This was not the first time Mr. Drew had asked Bendy to go to his office, away from your watchful eyes. The previous time Bendy had been taken, he came out silent and wide-eyed. Bendy had eventually said that all Joey did was yell at him, but the demon's reaction was down right volatile. His shaking had gotten so bad, that when you walked him back to your little office space, the leash vibrated in your hand.

 

Mr. Drew saw Bendy as _his_ property. You had no say in how he talked to, or treated, the cartoons. If he wanted to give them flowers, he could. And if he wanted to slap them, he had all the right in the world. At least, that was how he thought. You did not want to see Bendy so frightened again, but there was very little you could do, save for risking your job by standing up to the big boss. That would do nothing but get you fired and Bendy a new, likely less lenient, caretaker.

 

“I really wish I could do more... all I can do is try to make it better afterward. Come on, we'd better get inside. If you're out here for too long, they'll eventually come looking. I won't harness you, but you _have_ to see Mr. Drew. Don't try to hide in a trashcan, or something. In fact, I'll escort you.”

 

Bendy wiped at his face with a flat palm. He somehow smeared the ribbons of ink back into place, as if he had never been crying at all. With what sounded like a deep breath (did he really breathe?), he nodded.

 

So you walked him back into the building, down the bright corridors, and to Mr. Drew's office. Everything about his posture screamed anxiety. Tail down, brow ridges furrowed, hands clasped. But he went on in after a knock, in spite of it. No one could claim Bendy was always a coward. Mr. Drew shooed you off, citing that this encounter may take a while.

 

You washed you stained hand. You had a small snack and cup of coffee. You wrote a second draft. Two hours passed before Bendy was dropped off at your door by one Mr. Lawrence. It unnerved you. The hell did Mr. Lawrence carry him back for? You thought only Mr. Drew wanted to see Bendy.

 

Mr. Lawrence did not stay, and uttered but a single phrase before leaving.

 

“Get well soon.”

 

Bendy was smiling wide. He strode in, a tidbit off kilter, but otherwise appeared totally fine. No dripping, oozing, or leaking.

 

As you slipped the harness on to keep him in place, you prodded about what Mr. Drew had done.

 

“You sure you're fine?”

 

“Better than ever!”

 

“And all he did was feed you ink?”

 

“You worry too much!”

 

He was deflecting your questions. However, under all that good cheer, the corners of his smile twitched. Something felt very, very off about Bendy.

 


	4. A Chat

When you'd first met him, you told yourself that Bendy was a lot less _cute_ in person. You frequently still wrestled with that opinion; his antics teetering between annoying and endearing.

 

He was crafty and mischievous, but always played it off as ignorant innocence. Sometimes it was. The majority of the time, it wasn't. Sometimes he was just a dick to be a dick. However, after the third time he ate your writings, you got the feeling he was just acting out for attention.

 

“Bendy, I know you ate it. _Aaaaagain._ ”

 

The three foot demon stood with hands inconspicuously behind his back. He quietly shook his head.

 

You rolled your eyes and deadpanned. “There's paper sticking out of your mouth. Spit it out.”

 

His eyes widened, as if surprised. Then he twirled around, his back shielding his scramble, and crammed the rest of the paper down his gullet. Just as quickly he returned to facing you, grin brighter than ever.

 

You paused, and sat heavily. Fingers drummed against the messy desk as you thought. “Ya know, I've had you on the harness and locked to the desk leg for, mmmm, the majority of the day. So when I walk away for my third cup of coffee and come back to my third draft missing, I think I know who did it!”

 

Bendy rocked on his heels, examining the room as if he hadn't already been doing that all day. His tail flickered now and again, casually.

 

You slumped, head tilting back dramatically as you groaned. “Okay! Alright! I see I'm not getting any work done today!”

 

He puffed up in triumph, and commented, rather convincingly. “Cryin' shame.”

 

You drummed your fingers silently for another second or two, before yanking the leash.

 

“H-hey!” he stumbled forward.

 

Without his permission you grabbed and lifted him up onto your lap. He seemed embarrassed and squirmed until you held him fast by the hips.

 

“If you want attention so badly, you're gonna sit here and get it while I re-write this for the forth time today! So be still! The storyboard department needs it by three.”

 

He grumbled and lightly kicked his feet, tail wild. Bendy did not protest much further though, which made you smirk.

 

So, you set out to writing the script once more. Bendy was restless attempting to sit quietly. He was most certainly not known for sitting or keeping his hands to himself. After he re-adjusted to have his back against your stomach, and kept struggling to spill your coffee, you started to pet him.

 

“Come on now, I know you can be good for thirty minutes. Naughty thing. If Mr. Drew hadn't given me a raise with the position of demon-sitter, I don't think I'd have taken the promotion!”

 

He got upset at that, but didn't show it past a pout. You couldn't see it from your position, to which he was grateful for.

 

The gentle petting was affecting him. As you wrote with your right hand, your left stroked the side of his horn so, so sweetly. He tried not to lean into it. Couldn't let you know that he was enjoying himself; that he liked to be coddled. He'd started to nod, until snapping back to reality.

 

“Are you falling asleep?” you asked smugly.

 

He crossed his arms and turned sideways on your lap. His tail coiled in close around his rear and legs, defensive and tense. “No!”

 

You just laughed.

 

He tried to keep the void of his pie-cut eyes open, but it was becoming increasingly difficult. You cupped his cheek and swabbed your soft thumb across his solid, smooth ink, effectively calming the demon down. The tension left his body again, and soon he was resting his head against your chest. You were so cozy.

 

Eventually you let your hand wander further. Fingers moved to his neck, messaging gently around the bow tie, which resulted in an involuntary shiver on his part. Then you petted his arms down to the wrist. And, as his eyes finally closed, your hand swept slowly down his back, over the harness, and stroked the base of his tail with the back of your fingers. You felt him jerk at the sensation, but he didn't stop you.

 

You'd finished the draft of your script five minutes ago. Now, you were just petting the little demon who was pleasantly frozen in your lap. He looked so angelic like this. How ironic. There was hardly a time you could get him to obey without incident, but it seemed you'd found his weakness.

 

As the first hand returned to his horns and cheek, the other fingered its way under his glove to hold it.

 

“[Y/N]?” he suddenly asked, softer than you'd ever heard him before. He was frowning, too.

 

You thought he'd fallen asleep. “Hm?”

 

“...Did you really mean it?”

 

“Did I really mean what?”

 

“That you wouldn't have taken the position without a raise.”

 

You opened, then closed your mouth. Then you finally replied after a sigh. “Well I... didn't know what to expect. Mr. Drew asked me to keep tabs on a literal spawn of Satan. Bendy... that's what you are. A spawn of Satan. I mean, of course I'd need a little encouragement!”

 

The ink in your arms curled in against himself tighter. He balled his hands so that you could no longer hold the one.

 

That had hurt his feelings and you instantly felt guilt stab your heart. “B-but... since I've gotten to know you over these last few months... I don't think I'd give up the job even if he demoted me again. You're not as scary as my co-workers make you out to be,” you chewed the bottom of your lip. “I think... you're sorta sweet,” you smiled.

 

Sweet?

 

You thought he was sweet?

 

The corners of his mouth twitched. He opened his half-lidded eyes, focusing on nothing. He wanted to ask if you really meant that. No one had ever said a kind word towards the demon. They were all terrified of him, save for Sammy Lawrence and his uncanny obsession. Even Joey gave him funny looks sometimes, like he regretted his life decisions.

 

Bendy was just the creepy little splotch that liked to crawl through the vents to scare humans. He busted pipes, salted the coffee, and ate scripts. Even standing around innocently was a crime. He was a horrific, demonic nuance, compiled into one tiny, leaky cartoon icon. Being strapped into a lapdog harness and leashed did not make any difference. Everyone still avoided him, even if he had to heel to you now.

 

So, he wanted to ask you if you were really, truly being honest. Instead, he nuzzled against your shirt and smiled wide. It was more than just that classic Bendy smile; he really was ecstatic. His body relaxed, he opened his palms, and laced his fingers through yours willingly.

 

You giggled and traced the valley between his horns with the free hand, then kissed his head gently. “See? I knew you could behave. Wait... are you purring?”

 

He didn't even care. Bendy shut his eyes and wiggled happily. He kept nuzzling until you had to stop him from accidentally rubbing ink all over your clean work clothes.

 

You stroked him until he dozed off peacefully. Soon, the head of story came knocking violently at your door, waking a now grumpy demon. It was three thirty; you'd missed the deadline.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two things
> 
> 1\. This was actually the first chapter I wrote
> 
> 2\. The title of it is a pun. "A chat," both a talk, and to mean 'cat.' Purrrr! <3


	5. Sleepover

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't know when I'll update next. I'll be moving irl February 24th.

It was a Thursday when you walked into your office after a quick restroom break, just to find Bendy was sitting on the edge of your desk. He kicked his feet and whistled, his tail swooshing in beat across the papers under his rear.

 

“No! You're ruining all the paper!”

 

You frantically rushed forward and grasped the demon under his arms to lift, but his gloves tightened on the edge.

 

“Ah-ah,” he tisked.

 

The demon handed you a piece of paper that read: _'Hear me out or the final draft gets it!'_

 

It was then you noticed the crinkled sheet under his right hand. The white parts of his body did not stain nearly as much, if at all, though those wrinkles were already damaging.

 

“I was gone for two minutes and you already come up with a way to blackmail me! This is why Mr. Drew promoted me. You're such a pain sometimes!”

 

He shook his head, looking bored. Then he titled forward and boldly tapped the paper in your hands.

 

Below the first line, it read: _'Outside world.'_

 

You froze, squinting. The outside world?

 

“I already walk you around the building once a week under Mr. Drew's blessing. What more could you want? We can't let people see you. If they do, I'm liable.”

 

He drummed his fingers, the spade of his tail occasionally thumping in contemplation. After a thoughtful hum he answered aloud.

 

“See, I'm good at hiding.”

 

You slumped down in your chair and groaned.

 

That annoyed him. He frantically twisted this way and that, searching for a blank sheet. Eventually he just wrote on the back of an earlier draft, before shoving it forcefully into your face.

 

You read it quietly. It was a plan of action.

 

_'Hide in purse, leave at night, come back in mourning.'_

 

“You spelled morning wrong,” you mumbled, but he didn't react.

 

You leaned against the arm of the chair and pinched the bridge of your nose, shutting your eyes. “You keep to yourself for days then come up with the most _delusional_ ideas, ya know that?” You lowered your voice as someone passed down the hall. “What if someone decides to stay over night, unlocks my door, and finds you missing. Huh? Then I get the boot!”

 

He shrugged.

 

You stared at him, brows furrowed with exasperation. He kept eye contact, looking hopeful that he'd change your mind by just making a cute face. He was right. The devil knew he had you wrapped around his little finger. Curse Mr. Drew and Mr. Stein for drawing him like that!

 

“Fine!” you jabbed a finger at his chest. “Just get off my papers! You could drive a girl to drink!”

 

He giggled, ecstatic. He flung his arms around your neck and planted a wet kiss to both your cheeks.

 

“Toons,” you scoffed, flustered and wiping away ink.

 

He allowed you to pick him up and unceremoniously dump him to the floor. But he didn't mind, because he got to leave the building tonight. It was going to be nothing short of an adventure.

 

So, like he'd written in his plan, you stuffed him the best you could into your purse and got going. While walking down the hall, you noticed his rear and tail were hanging out. Your heart thumped with fear.

 

“Someone could see you!” you whispered harshly, cramming the tail back in. You thought you heard him say _'ow!'_

 

You got out without anybody noticing. The ink stain pooling at the bottom of your purse was of no concern to security, considering the increasing amount of burst pipes. Apparently, the child-sized lump inside your purse was of no concern, either.

 

_'Some security guards Joey Drew Studios has,'_ you thought disdainfully.

 

You gingerly put the bag in the back seat, and as soon as the key went to the ignition, Bendy squirmed out of the purse. You saw him trying to look out the back window through your rear view.

 

“Get down! If we get caught, we'll both sleep with the fishes.”

 

He ruefully sank to the floorboards, grumbling.

 

“What's that?” you asked, pulling carefully from the lot.

 

“Wanna see the trees. Do any sing, like in my cartoons?”

 

You sighed and didn't answer. What sort of question was that, anyways? You realized Bendy had seen very few trees, outside of the sparse foliage around Joey Drew Studios. It made flashbacks wander across your brain, of when he'd huddled against a trunk and cried about Joey yelling at him. He was truly only living a half-life in that studio.

 

“Trees only sing in those cartoons, Bendy.” After a moment of thought you added. “You can look out the side window, but just for a second.”

 

He snickered with glee, crawling up and standing in the floorboards to peer through the glass. Suburban homes and construction sites filled his view, flashing by in an instant. Children played unattended, men push-mowed their lawns in the sun of twilight. He'd never seen a more beautiful sky, cast in pinks and purples, with clouds gilded in gold. And yes, much to his delight, he saw many trees.

 

The world was awe-inspiring. He felt he had so many questions, that his mind could not pick a single one to ask.

 

“Alright that's enough, get back down.”

 

He whined, but obeyed.

 

You arrived at your apartment complex. After coaxing Bendy back into the purse, you toted him up the stairs and to your room. Key in, door open, lights on, door closed, shoes off.

 

You did pretty well for yourself working at Joey Drew Studios. Even with a small single woman's wage, you could afford a one bedroom apartment and gas to drive back and forth from it. You were proud of the clean white carpet, the refrigerator, the local paintings on the wall. It was comfortable here.

 

“Okay, you're safe to come out.”

 

He wriggled and shook the bag so hard in his escape, that you nearly dropped it before he could get out. Bendy ended up flopping to the ground with such a lack of grace, that you bellowed with laughter involuntarily. He didn't even notice. You choked down the last of the giggles and unlocked his harness quickly, so that he could explore.

 

“You can look around, but please for the love of God stay inside the apartment. And keep the noise low, I have neighbors.”

 

The curious demon was dripping onto the clean carpets you were so prideful of.

 

“H-hey! If you're going to get so excited you drip, do it in the kitchen!” you physically shooed him with your hands, pushing him on to the shiny tile floors. They'd be shiny no more, you supposed. You'd mop later.

 

He became flustered. Bendy was sensitive about his unwilling dripping.

 

You dabbed at the small, fresh ink blots in the carpet with a handkerchief, while he examined the kitchen's appliances. Seemed he was fascinated by the light in the fridge. As you were on your knees, you eyed him for a moment. He opened and closed the fridge's door.

 

“It keeps food cold so it doesn't go bad,” you explained.

 

He twisted his head this way and that at the machine, confused with the notion that food spoiled. Eventually he was bored with it and moved on.

 

You stood at the divide between carpet and tile, watching careful in case he tried to knock something off the counter.

 

Indeed, he climbed up and stood to peer into the cabinets. The stream of slowing ink that drizzled over the edge of granite distracted you. You lost focus. Naturally, in that one moment of distraction, Bendy ripped a plate from the shelf.

 

“What's this?”

 

As soon as you saw the ceramic in his hand you jumped forward and grabbed it gently. “C-c-careful! These were a gift from my mother when I moved! They used to be my grandmother's. You've seen plates before, we eat on them at work sometimes.”

 

He hummed. “No,” he tapped his finger at the plate's surface.

 

You were confused for a second, before it dawned on you that he'd been referring to the image.

 

“Oh! Those are lovebirds. Come on, you've seen birds, too.”

 

He frowned. Had he seen birds? If he did, they didn't look anything like the beautiful orange and green ones that were plastered decoratively across the plate. It made him wish he and his comrades had been made with color in mind, but colored television was a long ways off. The thought was lost as he remembered there was still much, much more to see.

 

Suddenly, Bendy pointed at the living room.

 

You set the plate back and shut the cabinet. “Want to go in the living room? Eugh, you're too drippy.”

 

Bendy pouted, genuinely heart broken.

 

“But I think I have an _idea..._ ”

 

Your idea was to wrap him in an old blanket. He could stain that moth bitten thing all he wanted, and as long as he kept it tucked under his bottom and sat still, he'd be fine. So, you swaddled Bendy up and settled him down on the pristine white couch.

 

“I sometimes watch T.V. for an hour or so before bed. Stay here while I make something quick to eat, then we'll see what's on.”

 

So you cobbled together a sandwich and chips- a true picnic dinner- and returned to the living room. Bendy stared you down as you adjusted the dials. When you found a station airing a dramatization of _Sherlock Holmes_ , you settled back next to the demon on the couch.

 

A minute or two went by, and Bendy hadn't said a word. Occasionally you'd glance over at him. He appeared so mesmerized by what was on the flickering screen, that he didn't dare blink. Of course, he only ever blinked when around humans, anyhow; he still blinked around you. But the television was apparently so amazing that he'd even forgot you were there beside him.

 

“Guess you like it,” you commented, crunching on a chip.

 

The only sign that he'd heard you was the ever-so-slight flick of a spade.

 

When a commercial came on, his face scrunched. He looked up at you, then back to the screen with confusion. He did not perceive the ad to be an ad; rather an extension of the plot. This did not make sense to someone unfamiliar with television as a whole. He'd only been exposed to his own reels.

 

You jumped when he patted your thigh to get your attention.

 

“What's happening? I don't understand.”

 

“It's a commercial! Like a billboard, or a poster, just in film format.”

 

He didn't look swayed.

 

“Mmm... you know how Mr. Drew made you pose for pictures one day, with the bacon soup? Like that. The ads on T.V. are trying to sell you a product. It's not part of the show, the show will be back on in a few minutes.”

 

Understanding flooded his features. He stared at the television, which now played an ad for a new car line. When _Sherlock Holmes_ finally returned, he scooted closer in his blanket to press against your side warmly.

 

You smiled. “See, now it's back.”

 

It was nice to have him sit still and be quiet for once by choice. You idly pet him to further keep his rambunctious and curious nature at bay, hoping to have peace for the rest of the evening. This did nothing but get you a drippy head in your lap. You supposed you didn't mind. At this point, you were no stranger to black spots in your clothes. You sat the empty plate down on the side table.

 

“Your designers really knew what they were doing when they drew you, huh,” you stated quietly.

 

Bendy didn't reply, but gently nuzzled your lap.

 

You swiped your thumb over the back of a horn. “What I'm sayin' is... they did a perfect job making you cute. And you _know_ _it_ , don't you?”

 

He still didn't reply.

 

“...Have you fallen asleep?”

 

The answer was yes, yes, and yes. You couldn't help but smirk as you rolled your eyes with a sigh. So you picked him up, switched off the television, then headed to bed early. You'd wash the plate before work.

 

“I swear... you keep getting heavier and heavier.”

 

He stirred and glanced around, finding that he was in a totally different room. Somehow, in the time it took to change into your long silk night gown, he'd convinced you to allow him into your twin bed.

 

“Tomorrow, it's back to sleeping in my office at the studio,” you reminded. “So don't get used to this.”

 

You replaced the comforter with an older quilt, one you didn't mind getting stained. Then you laid the old blanket he had been wrapped in over the sheets and changed pillow cases. It wasn't totally ink proof, but the fabrics would hold up well enough. At the very least, you'd stop your sheets from being ruined.

 

The lights were flicked off and the two of you crawled into the skinny bed. After fluffing your pillow, you slipped down cozily, back to the demon.

 

“Good night!” you whispered.

 

“Night,” he whispered back.

 

Bendy was still for a moment. Then he turned onto his side, facing away. A minute or two went by, and he turned over onto his other side, facing your back. His tail thumped the side of the bed and he scooted closer, pressing against your back with his knees to his chest.

 

“Be still,” you commanded harshly.

 

“...falling off the bed.”

 

You sighed. He was so small, how on God's green Earth could he be falling off the side of the twin? You inched away anyhow in an attempt to be accommodating.

 

The room was finally granted silence. He remained in place, the only movement from the occasional readjustment of a pillow. Eventually you turned onto your back. It became so quiet, that your ears could pick up on the distant, gentle ticking of the clock in the living room.

 

A slight unease overcame you. It urged you to peek your eyes open, just to realize Bendy was staring at your face in the dark. You could clearly make out his void-like eyes atop the white of his visage.

 

“Are you... staring at me?” you asked.

 

He nodded once.

 

“Bendy... I can't sleep knowing your unblinking eyes are glued to my face. It's creepy.”

 

“Am I creepy?”

 

You turned on your side to face him. “I mean.. _kinda._ Sometimes.”

 

“You said I was sweet.”

 

“Huh?”

 

As he shifted, the tips of his fingers graced your inner wrist, spreading tingles from the feather-like touch.

 

“While back, you said you thought I was sweet.”

 

You were unsure of what he was getting at, but you blushed regardless. Yeah, you remembered. It happened after he'd eaten one of your drafts, so you'd confined him to your lap. There you made light conversation after petting him into near slumber. Yes, you told him he was sort of sweet. That statement still stood; in between bouts of mischief, Bendy wasn't evil. He was just... Bendy. Sometimes that did involve being creepy, on the occasion.

 

“ _Now_ you want to talk, huh,” you changed the subject. “when I'm trying to sleep. Come on, close your eyes. I need energy to sneak you back into the studio in the morning.”

 

Bendy tilted his chin down, making puppy eyes. He looked far too sad and far too serious. After a pause, as if deciding whether or not to say it, he said it. “Don't wanna go back, [Y/N.]”

 

You could practically hear the pain and fear in his inky heart. The studio was cold and empty at night. The vents would pop and creak, pipes loudly burst in the walls, and occasionally, Bendy would notice the silhouette of Mr. Lawrence creeping near the door. But your apartment was... homey. It was warm and brimming with life. You had warm blankets and lovebirds lived on your plates.

 

Most importantly, every inch smelled like _you._ It intoxicated the little devil darlin', from the tips of his horns down to the very bottom of his feet. He didn't want to go back to that Hell hole. He wanted to remain here with you, where no one could tamper with him.

 

“Please, don't make me go back.”

 

Your brows furrowed upward in sympathy. There was simply no good way to reply. You opened your mouth, then closed it. Then you said something you did not really want to say.

 

“Sleep, Bendy.”

 

It was visible how his heart sank. Realistically, he knew he could not stay here with you. But he was a cartoon; no part of him was realistic. He supposed he couldn't hope for idealism from a living, breathing human. He seemed to melt into the blankets.

 

Unsure, you out stretched your arm. His eyes tracked it, until you bundled it across his little body and scooped him in close. You could feel the loose, wet ink draining into the fine cracks of your skin. He snuggled in immediately, ever responsive to your touch. The demon nuzzled affectionately in under your chin, which rested between his horns carefully.

 

Even if he couldn't make a home here in the outside world (or with you), at least he had small comforts like this. He grabbed your hand and put it to his back, and finally, after some last adjustments, he was still. The demon was very warm, like a snugly black cat.

 

“Night,” he peeped as you gave in and stroked his back softly.

 

“Mm. Goodnight. And Bendy? I'm sorry.”

 

“...I know,” he replied, barely audible.

 


	6. Whispers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey hey all. Figured I'd post at least one more chapter before the move. Have you seen the recent audio files Joey Drew Studios has posted on YT recently? I'm so excited!!
> 
> Also, I made a BATIM page on Fanlore. Check it out and add some stuff!
> 
> https://fanlore.org/wiki/Bendy_and_the_Ink_Machine

Things had begun to change. Some for the better, some for the worse.

 

Alice Angel had finally gotten her voice. Now she could sing. But Susie Campbell, her voice actress, had stopped coming in to work. Mr. Drew said she simply quit, because she knew that she was soon to be replaced by Thomas Connor's wife, Mrs. Allison Connor. But the fact that Alice sounded eerily like Ms. Campbell unnerved you to the very core. Bendy had you avoiding her in the halls.

 

There was a Boris on the scene now, too. He was as voiceless as Alice had once been, but unlike her, he was totally empty headed. He would just do as he was told, eyes void. Mr. Drew liked that about him, but he kept rattling on about putting some _life_ into the wolf, as he did with Alice.

 

This tall, thin dog was repeatedly sent to the depths of the studio, and every time came back... a little different. Once, he went to visit Mr. Drew and did not return. The next evening, you saw him riding up the elevator alone. You were certain that that was not the same Boris who had entered Mr. Drew's office the day before. You had the feeling that Mr. Drew was trying his hardest to mold Boris into the perfect little toon he wanted him to be, but could never quite get there.

 

On top of that, several staff had quit recently. Before leaving, you'd even spoken to one. He had been an older man from the music department. You'd casually questioned his motives for leaving, to which his eyes shifted ever so slightly to the demon at your side, then instantly snapped back to your face. It had been like he was trying to avoid looking, but simply couldn't help himself.

 

Instead of giving a coherent reply, he'd said. “Don't let that _thing_ get into your head. That's not Bendy. You're a smart girl, [Y/N], so don't let the _jackass_ who's running this place into Hell convince you otherwise.”

 

You had been unsure if Bendy or Mr. Drew was meant to be the jackass. But the man hadn't offered any more advice than that, before he'd slammed the case to his violin and stormed out. Bendy felt thoroughly downtrodden over that comment.

 

After a good hunk of the staff left, Mr. Drew introduced a... new kind of 'employee.' He said they weren't sentient. They were just mindless, humanoid-shaped entities that could preform basic functions, like a robot. No different than a vacuum cleaner or an automobile. Said they couldn't feel pain. This was his solution to the staffing issue.

 

These semi-solid ink people could sit at their desks day in and day out, without needing to leave. No need for food, or bathroom breaks, or family. No need for a paycheck. You couldn't look those things in the eye.

 

Worst of all, Bendy himself had started to change.

 

He'd become more and more silent as the days went by. Now you were lucky to get one sentence out of him all week. He was still obviously there, still listening and reacting, he was just quiet. Only, you were sure this was not a natural quiet. Sometimes he looked like he wanted to talk, but just didn't understand how to say what he wanted to say. He no longer complained about the (now continuous) ooze of ink from his body.

 

He'd also developed a new hobby. He taken a great liking to anything that even vaguely resembled himself, especially if it held his trademark grin. Nothing brought Bendy more joy. You didn't know if it was out of new found vanity, or if it just reminded him of how he was supposed to look. Cardboard cutouts, posters, dolls, even the film reels his cartoons were plastered on. You were confused how it was he kept coming about the film reels, though. He stashed the hoard away in your office.

 

It was lunch time. As per usual, you guided Bendy to the break room on his harness. He'd developed a new habit of preferring to be carried, which was very much unlike how he once was. There was a time you feared being drenched. Now, you feared his tantrum at being told 'no.' Mr. Drew, surprisingly, never commented on your clothes these days.

 

“I'm serious,” you said with a grunt, re-adjusting him in your arms. “you're _heavy_. Maybe you really do digest what you eat? 'Cause you're getting bigger.”

 

Bendy shrugged, chin on your shoulder.

 

At the top of the stairs, you could see Mr. Connor and Mr. Lawrence having a heated discussion. But as soon as you took a few steps down the planks, they became hushed. Everything about Mr. Connor's body language screamed uncomfortable, right down to refusing to turn to your footsteps. But Mr. Lawrence was watching you and smiling.

 

Across the room, one of the small wooden tables had been drug close to the wall. Alice Angel, with Ms. Campbell's voice and eyes, gave a princess’s wave. Unlike Bendy, the other toons needed very little attending to. Alice Angel did not chew through wires or replace soup in staff thermoses with ink. She did, however, receive the same treatment as Bendy in regards to fear. So there she sat, alone. You wondered if she'd been listening to Mr. Lawrence and Mr. Connor's argument.

 

She was waving the two of you over and giving the occasional glimpse towards the men across the room. Her legs were crossed and she leaned her head on her other hand, as if bored.

 

You went to set Bendy down in the chair across from her. After all, they were both cartoons, and you felt that even given the mystery behind Alice's life, they had a lot in common. They could possibly chat politely about whatever it was ink beings chat about (or Bendy could listen), you could devour your lunch, and then the two of you could flee. No feelings had to be hurt here, even if you preferred silent Boris.

 

Bendy struggled and glared as you plopped him down, but you pointed a finger at him sternly and whispered for him to be nice. You were certain Alice heard you, but she didn't acknowledged it.

 

“Good evening [Y/N], Bendy,” she greeted pleasantly.

 

“Evening Alice! I'm just gonna leave Bendy in your care for a few minutes while I grab my lunch out the fridge. Um, do you want anything?”

 

She rose a brow and shifted back against the chair. “Darling, I no longer eat.”

 

Your cheeks reddened. She looked so human, save for being drained of color, that you'd forgotten that she didn't eat like you did. That _'no longer'_ tacked on concerned you immensely, though.

 

“O-oh! Right! Sorry. Well.. I'll be right back. Don't let him run off please.”

 

Alice herself didn't quite understand the _'no longer'_ either. It just came out. Did she... used to eat? Some regretful emotion swirled in her chest.

 

“That's alright. He won't go anywhere.”

 

Bendy scowled and snarled, barely able to peek above the table without a boost. Alice drummed her fingers slow and watched him as you tottered away.

 

You open the fridge casually. By now, Mr. Lawrence and Mr. Connor had resumed speaking, but they were muted. You were close enough to make out a fragment or two, but they obviously didn't want to be heard.

 

“ _......Mr. Drew wants me to...”_

 

Whispers, whispers.

 

“ _......it's not about us...”_

 

A stern look.

 

“ _......Shhh..... let's talk later...”_

 

The two of them glanced back at you, aware of your proximity as you dug out your lunch. Maybe you were moving a little slower to listen longer, maybe you weren't. But they didn't like it.

 

Mr. Connor turned on a dime and stomped up the stairs. He was agitated, you could tell.

 

The musician stayed behind, leaning against the wall lazily. His attention was on you.

 

“Have you thought about quitting, [Y/N?]” he suddenly asked, still smiling as if you were amusing.

 

You were caught off guard. The cold from a bottle of soda permeated into the little bones of your fingers as you shut the fridge and floundered for a response.

 

“Why would I do that? I like my job,” you blinked. “If you don't mind me asking... have you, Mr. Lawrence? I know Mr. Drew has been pushing everyone really hard this month. Even you.”

 

He laughed, studying the ceiling and the further wall. “I trust Joey,” then he grumbled under his breath. _“Even though he cartoons aren't being finished on time.”_

 

After a pause, he continued. “You and Thomas should trust him, too,” his head smoothly motioned towards the cartoons across the room. “What we're doing is important. Bendy's more than what our mortal eyes perceive you know, he's- he's,” Mr. Lawrence looked exhilarated, eyes wide and toothy grin twitching. But then he shut his mouth with an exhale, thinking better of it.

 

You were grimacing and shuffling your feet awkwardly. Mr. Lawrence was getting creepier by the day.

 

“Look,” he nodded just-so towards the cartoons.

 

Alice was leaning over the table, but her body language had hardly changed otherwise. She'd somehow riled Bendy enough for him to stand up in the chair. Now, they were nearly level. Whatever Alice was saying, he did not like it in the slightest. Perhaps 'did not like' was an understatement. He was dangerously close to opening his mouth, like he had months ago to swallow down that Bible. You could only imagine what he was planning to do if she pushed him that far. Would he actually assault her?

 

“He's beautiful,” Mr. Lawrence swooned.

 

You gave the musician one last wary look, before fast-walking back to the duo and setting your lunch down.

 

“Hey hey, what happened? Bendy calm down!”

 

He didn't appear to be listening.

 

Alice leaned away. She shrugged, nonchalant. “We were just talking about nature. I don't know why he got so mad,” She turned back to him. “If I said anything to hurt you, please forgive me!” Her big eyes batted and she looped her fingers together, as if in prayer.

 

Bendy slammed his fist onto the table and continued to stare her down, shaking with rage. Your soda nearly tipped over from the force of his hand.

 

You flinched, then rubbed his back in an effort to sooth. “Come on, maybe I should eat lunch in my office today,” you offered in a syrupy tone.

 

Finally, after narrowing his eyes for a moment more at the doe-eyed angel across from him, he ripped his gaze off of her.

 

Mr. Lawrence watched you cheerfully, as you walked the fuming ball of fury out of the break room and away from the judgmental eyes of Alice.

 

You knew that would not be the last time that you'd have to break Bendy and Alice apart.

 


	7. Illusion of Confinement

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My move went well, we're still unpacking and settling in. But since it's getting a tad more quiet, I have time to type again! I have a few chapters from before the move, and am eager to add on to them. I think the next couple of chapters after this one are my favs so far, but you'll have to wait to read those.

It had hardly been a week since Bendy and Alice Angel's unheard conversation. Bendy had been moody and unresponsive, but he always perked up when you touched him. Touch, you found, was rapidly becoming the only way to get his attention.

 

If you wanted him to listen at all, a word would not get a reply. But if you touched a horn, or lightly jerked the lead, his horns would twitch (a new range of motion) and he'd look at you. Sometimes you could get a nod or an expressive reply, but no words. He was even reluctant to write, like he'd forgotten how.

 

You nervously brought it up with Mr. Drew. He was dismissive, waving his hand as if you were silly, just like he had months ago when you'd told him about Mr. Lawrence's weird behavior.

 

“He'll be normal soon enough, don't you worry your pretty little head! Leave the important jobs to the big boys. Speaking of jobs, go do yours! I don't pay you to _stand around_ and ask questions.”

 

When you'd sulked back to your merchandise-cluttered office space there were fresh, wet flowers on your desk. You could hardly fret about the meeting with Mr. Drew after seeing that.

 

“Bendy, who left these?” you asked, unable to keep the smile off your face.

 

For once, his attention was already fixed on you. He just blinked, his grin stretching further, before he looked away bashfully.

 

“Not gonna say, huh? Is it a big secret?” you laughed, smelling them with a song in your heart.

 

As you sat in your chair, examining the vivid gift in your hand dreamily, you realized something about them seemed... familiar. The small bouquet greatly resembled the flowers from the front office, where the secretaries worked. There had been a vase of water on one of the receptionist’s desks, which had held pink and red tulips. That was up a level, though. Someone would have had to steal them, as you doubted the grumpy middle aged woman who'd set the vase out would have left these for you. Or, maybe it was just a coincidence.

 

As your brows furrowed in thought, the water droplets clinging to the lower stems dripped. It caught your eye. You watched the water soak into your gray skirt, and then there was a deep dark black fleck that soaked in among the water droplets. You examined the flowers harshly, confused. Yes, there was a bit of ink tainted water there.

 

You looked at Bendy. He had started staring again, but as soon as your eyes turned on him he looked away.

 

“Come on, pleeease, who put these here? I _know_ you saw them. I'm dying to find out!”

 

He wrung his gloved hands where he sat and looked around the room.

 

You sighed and placed the flowers into a pencil cup. Mind too far off to work, you set your cheek into your hand and let your eyes fall to the wall on your left. You squinted. A Bendy cut out had been moved, and you were looking right at it. Previously it had been in the corner, where you didn't have to feel like the lifeless cardboard was watching you work. You had no desire for _two_ Bendys to be staring, so you got up and moved it again. There was a wet, Bendy-sized ink splatter on the wall behind the cutout.

 

You stood and pursed your lips. “How did you even do that,” you said more than asked. “I guess as long as you're only making messes in here, Mr. Drew won't breathe down my neck. More so than usual, that is. I'm going to get a cup of water and some paper towels.”

 

So you left and did just that, returning with a means to hopefully lessen the big black blob before it sunk further into the wood. When you arrived, paper bunched up in hand, you stopped dead in your tracks and squinted. There was an entirely new roll of paper towels on your desk. And not even the scratchy, stiff kind from the bathroom, like you had. It was a legit roll of soft white sheets.

 

“The hell?” you wondered.

 

This was so weird. You looked over your shoulder, then peeked down the hall suspiciously. No one was there. You'd been gone all of three minutes, not enough time for someone to dig around the supply closet for a new roll, trot to your office, then trot away again to hide. You glanced skeptically at Bendy, who was now rummaging idly through some toys he'd collected and was paying you little mind. Whatever. You had a mess to tidy, and you were grateful for the clean white papers.

 

A lot of scrubbing and dabbing later, you'd at least dried the mess up. There was still a deep dark shade of gray staining the porous wood, but it was better. At least you wouldn't accidentally stick your hand into a wet spot.

 

You sat down, finally ready to work. The pen was uncapped and twirled between two fingers as you chewed your bottom lip. Unfocused eyes stared blurrily down at a blank sheet. Then they shifted up to the pencil cup, which sported the beautiful spring tulips. You found yourself doodling the shape of the blossoms, rather than actually writing anything.

 

The pen slammed dramatically onto the desk as you declared. “Okay! I'm going to guess who came in and gave me the flowers and paper towels, and you just nod if I'm right! How about that?”

 

Bendy wasn't paying attention, he was looking up at one of his posters that he'd had you tape to the wall. You had to move and squat beside him, gently touching his shoulder to get him to acknowledge you.

 

“Did you hear me?”

 

He gave a nod, tail swaying slow.

 

“Okay, it'll be like a fun guessing game! You like games... alright, mmm,” you tapped your chin. “Alice? She loves flowers!”

 

Bendy's brow ridge rose and he tilted his head. That was a no.

 

“Yeah, that was a long shot,” then you shuttered and swallowed down disgust. “... Mr. Lawrence? Or Joey?”

 

He looked pissed and his head snapped away, as if offended.

 

You laughed awkwardly, relieved. “Oh thank God. Gee, I wouldn't know who else to even guess. Maybe that security guard who flirts with me before I leave every evening?”

 

No reaction.

 

Now you had to rack your brain. You settled more comfortably onto your calves and hummed. “Well... Mr. Connor is married. Blah. This is going to eat me up all day ya know,” you sighed. “Sometimes I wish you still spoke. Suppose you _still_ wouldn't tell me even if you did.”

 

The demon's expression changed. He barely turned his head, cheeks a ever-so-slight gray. Huh. He was blushing. Then his tail flickered as he put his back to you. He appeared to be looking for something. The little demon moved across the room, his lead trailing behind him where it connected to the harness and locked to the desk. He stooped, scooping something unseen up and holding it close to his chest. Then he waltzed back over, smiled big, and shoved a small plush against your chest.

 

You rose a brow and held the Bendy doll in your hands, confused. “Guess you're tired of playing a guessing game, but I don't know what you're asking me.”

 

He stomped a foot. No, he was not asking you anything! Bendy didn't understand why _you_ didn't understand. He had to muster quite a lot of courage to do what he just did. You just didn't get it. He pointed at the doll.

 

Glancing from the plush to Bendy's expectant eyes earned you no comprehension. “You want me to keep it? I already have one of these at home, but thanks,” you said while trying to hand it back.

 

Bendy slumped, giving up. He gingerly took the toy and sat down where he stood.

 

“Sorry,” you said, unsure why he was apparently so upset.

 

He fumbled with the toy's stubby little limbs a moment, under your gaze. Then, in a last ditch effort, decided to try again by pointing at himself. Saying it with a doll was cute, but did not work out how he'd planned.

 

You were quiet. Realization dawned on you, finally, to what he was attempting to communicate. You snorted. “Bendy... you're so silly! You've been tied up here all day, don't you think I know better?”

 

He tilted his head, looked at the ink stain on the wall, then back to you.

 

This did not sound right at all. Bendy obviously couldn't escape his harness. And even if he did, he wouldn't have been able to escape, take the elevator up a level, steal the flowers, ride the elevator back down, then re-lock himself into the harness in the time it took you to talk to Mr. Drew. Someone would have caught him.

 

Regardless of whether he thought this was a funny joke or not, it was sort of charming that he wanted to take credit for the gifts. You gave a soft smile, then reached out to stroke the side of his head. He leaned into the touch.

 

You lowered your voice as the sound of uneven footsteps came barreling down the hall, but you were not quick enough to see the blur pass across your open doorway.

 

“Thank you,” you said, despite having not believed him. “But next time... don't steal. And if someone sees you off your harness, I'll get yelled at. Mr. Drew has been especially naggy about keeping you contained these days.”

 

He was calmed by the pets, even though it was obvious you didn't believe him. No matter. As long as you enjoyed the flowers, he was pleased. Bendy nuzzled your palm affectionately.

 

A gentle knock alerted the two of you. You hastily stood and smoothed your skirt, but it was just Alice Angel. She was leaning slightly against the frame, her intense, human eyes too serious.

 

Before you could say anything she blurted out. “You haven't seen a wolf around here, have you?”

 

Dumbfound and eyes wide with surprise, you shook your head. “Wuh- no, no I haven't! You mean Boris?”

 

She smiled coyly, as if considering insulting your intelligence. “Have you _heard_ a wolf?”

 

You scratched your cheek. “Well someone did just run by here, but we didn't see anybody. Right Bendy?”

 

He had his arms crossed and was facing away from the guest.

 

“What do you need him for? You know he's not like the two of you.”

 

Alice removed herself from the frame, but she swayed on her feet like a branch. “Ah, there's where you're wrong. I just wanted to talk, but he ran away.”

 

The angel looked down the hall, pouting. It was then you noticed the slight, barely noticeable drip, coming from her hairline into the white. She debated internally as she looked fixedly into the distance. Her expression shifted from serious, to sad, then to stern and angry.

 

She didn't look at you as she said “Thank you,” and headed down the hall in the direction Boris had ran.

 


	8. Film & Flowers

You began to wonder when it was that this went from being about a job to being about your relationship. When Mr. Drew had originally approached you about the promotion, you had been more than reluctant. It was why he had given you that raise. Though, maybe subconsciously, you had wanted to be the one to make Bendy see the light, and that was the real reason you'd accepted the promotion. Maybe it was a bit of both.

 

Quickly, you'd discovered there was more to Bendy than what his short animations had you believe. He was, naturally, a trickster; scared easy, upset easy, angered easy. An emotional and expressive character. You didn't always get along, but he was enjoyable company. Not to mention he was an avid cuddler, though he'd never let anyone else know that. You were never fond of the stains, but having a warm purring puddle in your lap was more than welcome.

 

It had been nearly half a year since you'd taken up the little demon, keeping him from causing havoc and escorting him to appointments. Then, around the third month mark, things slowly went down hill. A lot had changed during that time. His expression started to stiffen, now always frozen in his cartoon smile. The dripping would come and go, then suddenly around month five, would not stop. No more talking, no more writing. He grew nearly a foot taller, but still insisted that you carry him.

 

Finally, it came to a head when Mr. Drew demoted you and had Mr. Connor take over. He said the man could take better care of Bendy than you could, given the recent turn of events in Bendy's physique. After an argument with Mr. Connor, you had to reluctantly agree; only under the assumption that this was a _temporary_ arrangement. But Mr. Connor hadn't even let Bendy take his sizable collection of paraphernalia with him to the other office, so surely Bendy was as miserable as you were.

 

You tried, and failed, to focus on the dialog you were writing. Instead thoughts floated to memories of the conversation that only happened a day and a half ago.

 

You'd fought tooth and nail- or at least as hard as a low-level writer could fight - to retain your position. In the end, Mr. Drew _still_ handed Bendy over to Thomas Connor. He even dropped your pay back to what it had originally been, before you were tasked with keeping up with Bendy.

 

“He doesn't have a soul,” Mr. Connor had whispered, flabbergasted with why you'd want to keep the job. “Doesn't he give you the creeps?”

 

Looking pitiful, you'd frantically shook your head. “He _does_ have a soul! What are you talking about?”

 

But Mr. Connor had just given you a rueful look. “But you admit there _is_ something wrong with him. That's why Joey has me doing this,” he glanced down at the blank-faced demon. “He's not like Alice, or the new Boris. He's always been sorta like... _that._ ”

 

You'd found his argument poor. Bendy had once talked, like Alice. And then he stopped, like Boris. How were they so different? You knew Bendy had emotions, opinions, wants and desires. He liked to be doted on, and vainly looking at himself. He had cried.

 

Everyone claimed up and down that the little four-foot creature was from Hell. After all, that was one of the main reasons so much of the staff had simultaneously quit. But you _knew_ him, and always found it so hard to believe. And, even if he were a demon, even if you actually did believe it, did that mean he was above redemption? All sinners could ask forgiveness. You saw no reason to treat him differently.

 

But there _was_ something wrong with Bendy now'a days. You remember bringing it up with Mr. Drew, but did that mean he had to hand him off to someone else? Mr. Connor was the main man who maintained the ink machine, and he kept tabs on the well being of the ink spawns. But you could look after Bendy by yourself. You didn't mind letting Mr. Connor take him down to the lower levels for a little visit with the machine, but did he really have to take your entire job title away? Your paycheck?

 

And it wasn't just the money, or the pride. You... would miss Bendy being around. Terribly.

 

Mr. Connor pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “Listen,” he began, having lowered his voice. “I'm quittin' soon. I can't stand this place. What we're doing is wrong, and besides, all the noise coming from that damned machine gives me headaches. I'm tired of cleaning up after burst pipes since Wally apparently can't do his God damn job. Joey doesn't know yet, so don't tell him,” he gave a pointed look.

 

“But as soon as my two weeks notice hits his desk, I'll recommend you be given back the reigns. I don't want to handle these monsters anymore than Joey does. Speaking of monsters, if you see Alice any time soon, come find me. I need her, too."

 

Even though that conversation had only been a short while ago, and despite that tiny speck of hope on the horizon, you were already feeling lonely. Would Bendy be okay with someone else? Would he be happy?

 

You sighed, and noticed that the dialogue you were writing was brimming with typos. So you set the pen down and glanced about the still very much junked-up room.

 

If Bendy wasn't going to be around for a while, you could at least bring the film reels back for safe keeping. You picked up a couple and brought them to the dusty projection room above the recording studio. Surprisingly, Mr. Polk wasn't skulking around. You could categorize in peace. As you put them in their rightful places, a strange, other-worldly sound emanated into the dimly lit room.

 

You started and swept around to locate the source. A thick, amorphous blob of ink spread across the near wall. It stayed for a moment, changing shape like it had a mind of its own. Then from the flat maw arrived a harness-free Bendy. The portal closed behind him, but left the wet ink behind.

 

You gasped, astonished. No way that just happened. But truly, there was mischievous little Bendy, grinning up at you.

 

He placed a finger to his mouth. “Shhh.”

 

To keep your head from spinning, you collapsed heavily into a chair, hand to forehead. The hard wood hurt your tailbone as you fell. “Bendy? Oh, I feel faint! Mr. Drew must be working me harder than I thought.”

 

He bound up to you, cheerful and enthusiastic. Then he plopped his chin into your lap and nuzzled excitedly, as if he hadn't seen you in months.

 

You were shocked into silence for a few tediously long seconds. The weight of his head made it clear that this was not a hallucination, but a reality. Uncertain, you gingerly set a shaking hand between his horns for a final confirmation. Yes, he was real.

 

“How did you do that? I saw you just... step through the wall!”

 

He backed up and nodded heatedly, but could offer no verbal explanation.

 

Blinking, you eyed the blotch on the surface behind the demon. Your brows rose, realization like being hit by a steel bat.

 

“You really _DID_ bring me those flowers! Oh, God, and that was how you did it, too! But that's impossible.”

 

The demon puffed up his chest. You then heard the slight tinkle of metal against metal behind his back. He revealed the noise, his pointer and thumb looped playfully around the ring of a set of keys. They were held high in the air and were given a gentle sway for emphasis.

 

You nearly fell froward, aghast. “Bendy, please tell me those aren't Wally's keys!”

 

The white of his face didn't emote, but you could almost feel the smug aura radiating off his being. He was so proud of himself.

 

“You stole those,” you sighed loudly, head in hands. “oh God help me, you stole those... just like the flowers,” head came up. “Why?”

 

He stepped forward and carefully, as if handling an egg, placed the damp-with-ink keys into your lap.

 

You leaned back and stared at them blankly. “I don't want these, Wally needs them to clean at night. Bendy, you had better give 'em back.”

 

You tried to hand them over, but Bendy simply put his palms up in refusal. Then he gave a little finger wave, the portal behind him tore open, and he ran back through it before you could insist. At least Mr. Connor wouldn't notice he was gone, as was likely to have happened if he'd stayed any longer.

 

It took you ten minutes to fully regain your composure. Even then, you still had a million questions. How was it Bendy could walk through ink puddles in the walls? How long could he escape his harness? Why did he steal the janitor's keys? Steal the flowers, the film reels?

 

For a lot of your questions the easy, but uncomfortable, answer of _'because Bendy, as a demon, isn't born with a solid morality'_ came to mind. But you did not want to think too hard about that right now.

 

As you stood to leave, Mr. Polk appeared in the room, as if from thin air or the dust itself. He spoke, alerting you to his presence.

 

“What are _you_ doing in here?

 

Hand flew to heart. You were seriously going to die of cardiac arrest if you worked here much longer, but a gal has to pay the bills somehow. You inconspicuously crammed the keys into your pocket and laughed awkwardly.

 

“I was just putting some film reels back that Bendy stole.”

 

He narrowed his eyes, stepping in and leaning with a hand below the glass. “He stole those some time ago. You're more than a little late, Miss [Y/N].”

 

You nodded, trying not to feel guilty. “Yeah, sorry. I don't really know how he got those in the first place. He just... likes looking at himself, haha.”

 

Mr. Polk rolled his eyes. “Please make your way out now,” he peered below the window, down into the band's recording studio. “Mr. Lawrence is to arrive soon and no one has informed him that the latest animation reel has yet to be delivered. He's not going to be happy. You don't want to stick around for that, he gets... _intense._ ”

 

Unlike Sammy's tedious riddles, Norman was very straightforward. That was his way of telling you nicely to get the Hell out of his happy place, you assumed. So you nodded and rushed out, keys safely in your pocket.

 

You returned to your office. There, a crumpled up sheet of paper sat in your seat. Atop the paper, bleeding slightly into the wrinkles, was the shape of a black tulip. You gently picked it up with the tips of your fingers, but found it did not stain (much). It was solid ink. Your cheeks reddened and an involuntary smile spread across your warming cheeks.

 

You organized it in with your pencils in the pencil cup. It would make a lovely replacement for the wilted tulips you had thrown out. Ink didn't exactly degrade the same way a flower did, and that thought thrilled you. You could look at the tulip day in and day out and not see it wither before your eyes.

 

Then, you took the paper and unraveled it, curious.

 

In the worst hand writing you have ever beheld, it read _**'9PM Back Door.'**_ Bendy had wrote this, and though you couldn't exactly say he succeeded, at least you could read it at all.

 

Wally's keys were heavy in your pocket. You'd planned to discretely return them, but now... Bendy apparently wanted you to do something illegal. He was asking you to sneak past the lax security behind the campus, use the stolen keys to wrongfully break in after hours, and meet him.

 

What a shitty idea. How could you refuse?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Possibly a week or so before I post any more. Coming close to the end of the stockpile I had before the move, haha.


	9. Date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually combined two chapters into one for this one, so it flowed more smoothly. Have fun on your "date" :)
> 
> This chapter is where the blood and vomit tags come in.

The thick door was shut as quietly as possible behind you. Inside, the hall lights were dimmed, but not shut off. However, the windows upon the office doors were cast in a deep, unknowing darkness; as if no one had ever been inside and never would. There were no human sounds. No tapping soles, humming, or gossiping. No typewriters, or distant oven tops brewing hot water for coffee. There was nothing to draw the ears but the sound of drip-dropping from the overexerted pipes and the creek of the ventilation.

 

Creepy.

 

You shoved the keys into your purse without jingling them, and tip-toed down the hall. You were horrified at the concept of making even the most minute sounds. Your breathing was stilted as you stopped in the middle of the way. The watch read 9:03, but where was Bendy? Was that the correct door you'd come through?

 

Unexpected movement nearly made you jump from your skin. You actually yelped, then slapped a hand over your lips.

 

Bendy slipped from around the corner, silent as mist. Only the gentle dripping of his body accompanied him as he bound up and waved, tail high and sweeping.

 

“You scared the daylights out of me,” you whispered harshly, taking a knee. “Now Bendy... why am I here?”

 

He tilted his head one way, then the other, then back again. Then he straightened and turned, beginning to walk down the hall from where he came.

 

You pursed your lips and were forced to follow.

 

This was the main level of the building, where it was acceptable to receive guests and have meetings with investors. Generally, ink creations did not dwell here. Bendy most certainly was not supposed to be romping around like he owned the halls, but that was exactly what he was doing.

 

You wondered if he even knew where he was going. It occurred to you that he'd perhaps been sneaking around the whole time you'd known him, or at the very least started doing it recently. But surely _somebody_ would have noticed. Even if they hadn't, someone would notice a mess, or an ink stain, or just... _something._ But so far, they apparently hadn't.

 

The idea that he had been able to sink out of the harness at any time, yet choose to stick around you, did delight you, though. And not only that, but he had made your office his nest, complete with all his collected and loved on junk. You tried not to notice the slight flutter of your heart at the thought.

 

He stopped before a locked room, and you almost tripped over his short stature. The demon bore his eyes at the darkened glass, then opened a portal and walked straight through the shut door as if it wasn't even there. The portal disappeared instantly after, but left its mark.

 

You gawked and jiggled the handle. Wouldn't budge. You supposed you were meant to wait. But as you stood quietly in the hall, you heard a _'click.'_ You hesitantly tried the handle again, and this time it twisted easily. So you came inside and flicked on the light.

 

This was just a typical office for a worker drone; one of the staff who filed paperwork outside of the guest area. It was small, crammed with file cabinets, and had one measly desk with a typewriter and a miniscule amount of office supplies. This was sort of like your own office, though yours was a little bit bigger.

 

Bendy was already in the middle of pulling out drawers from atop the desk. They clattered open loudly, falling to the floor.

 

“Stop that! You'll have to clean that up!”

 

He acted like he didn't hear you. Instead he jumped down and picked through the supplies that scattered on the floor. You peered over the desk at him just as he snapped an ink pen in half, opened his mouth, and ate it, nib and all. You grimaced.

 

Right, he'd started responding mainly to touch, unless he was already intent on your attention. You crouched beside him and nervously put your hand to the side of a horn. He jolted, back painfully straight, and looked at you unblinking.

 

“Hey,” you asked, a little concerned. “Is there a reason we're in this room? You're making a huge mess, someone is going to notice this tomorrow.”

 

His smile twitched. He looked down at the destruction, then back up to you. Then he quickly grabbed a pair of scissors, swallowed it, and lifted his arms up.

 

“Want me to carry you? Uh, I mean... I don't know where you want to go, but alright. If you wanted to do something special while I'm here, better be fast. I'm going home at 11. Just let me clean this first.”

 

The desk was put back together, though you could do nothing about the trail of ink spots for now. And the big black blot on both sides of the door? Forget about it.

 

The only indication of his impatiences was the irritated lash of a spade as he settled into your arms. You hefted him out, turned off the light, and shut the door carefully.

 

His arm sprung up like a magnet, pointing right at the wall. After a curious noise from your throat, he wriggled his arm more aggressively. A portal, big enough for a human, yawned open.

 

“...I'm not walking into that.”

 

He squirmed and tugged at your dress, urging you to move.

 

It seemed that yes, you were walking into that, albeit anxiously. You stood in front of the divide. There was no way of knowing what this was, or what it could do to you. For all you knew, this was a trap. That portal could take you to Hell. A chill ran down your spine and you side eyed Bendy. More and more, you'd become unsure of his intentions. And yet here you were, in the studio after hours at his request.

 

_'This is a real demon. A real, live, servant of Satan. What have I been thinking?'_

 

As if sensing your reservations and doubt, Bendy cupped your cheek and swabbed it with his thumb. He drew your chin to make eye contact. That forever smile was unnerving in this context, but he was trying his best to comfort you. You swallowed, face red, as he nestled his head against your neck and collar bone.

 

Finally, you took a step. Your foot went straight through the black webbing, like a warm pudding. When it touched ground, it was soft and mailable. You pushed through the fear and just went for it. Step after step, and then you were inside, walking and moving through a bright, pulsating tunnel. You could hear your heart beating in your ears. Bendy and your purse were slipping, but you could hardly take notice when everything else was calling your attention.

 

And then you reached the light. You were regurgitated back into the world, like a child from the womb, with hardly a speck of ink against your skin. You were extremely disorientated and nauseous, but this wasn't Hell. You silently thanked God.

 

“Oh please,” you burped and put him down. “Don't ever make me do that again. I feel like I'm going to be sick.”

 

He skipped around the corner, and you followed after steadying your head. It looked like he'd taken you to the animation department. Slanted desks and light tables were pushed off to nearly every wall in the room, with a couple hanging out in the open spaces. Unlike the small script and story departments, the animation department was wide and open. This was so art directors and Mr. Drew himself could march around to yell at the poor souls hunched over their scribblings.

 

“Why did you take me here? O-oh! I didn't realize anyone was working after hours, we should go.” But Bendy didn't trail after you when you moved to leave. “Bendy,” you whispered. “Come on.”

 

He stared at the dark shape in the far corner, hands behind his back like an observer at the zoo. But this wasn't a zoo. That was a person, and you could get in deep trouble. You tried to call for him again, but he pranced cheerfully forward and leaped up onto the slanted desk.

 

“B-Bendy! No!”

 

You scrambled after him frantically. “I'm so sorry, I'm just doing some extra work for Mr. Drew so it's a late night, you know Bendy, hahaha, and- uh, oh,” you careened away.

 

_That wasn't a person._ It was one of those things- one of those lifeless husks- that Mr. Drew 'employed' to stay at work all day and night. You'd never actually met one up close and personal before, and cold, icy horror thrummed straight into your quickening heart.

 

The semi-solid humanoid shape hardly registered anyone was there, until Bendy had disrupted what it was doing. Its glowing yellow eyes floated up in its hollow eye sockets, watching the ink spawn with confusion and disdain. Work was due soon. This demon's bottom was in the way. His tail was thumping all over the transparent sheaf. It had to move him.

 

It reached out with both hands to grab Bendy, but Bendy easily slapped the weak willed thing's arms away. It tried again, with the same result. Sadly, it eyed the animation it had been working on. There was no winning here. How long had it been drawing? What time was it? _Soon,_ it thought, _soon it'll be done, and I can go home._

 

Bendy ripped the top sheet from the peg, and the poor creature groaned in sorrow. The demon pushed down the wave of emotion he felt at the base of his head, telling him he was being mean.

 

You gawked. “What are you doing?”

 

He pointed avidly at the paper, his finger tapping rapidly with fever. It was a picture of him! Bendy wanted to be paraded around proudly, to be given all the attention he deserved. Look! Here he was, being drawn into the world via paper. This department was important. He loved it here. This was where he was made, he believed, as if he and the character sketched on the translucent paper were one and the same.

 

“Yeah,” you laughed awkwardly. “That sure is you. Now come on, let's leave the thing to its work.”

 

Bendy rotated the paper this way and that, admiring himself. The poor employee tried again to grab the sheet, but Bendy lashed out and gripped its wrist. It cried, as if in pain. Bendy was holding on too hard.

 

“Let go, let go,” it moaned, clawing at the glove with its free hand.

 

You had to interject. “You're hurting it,” you fretted, trying not to panic. “Bendy, if you don't give back the paper, your cartoons can't be finished!”

 

Bendy tilted his head, alarmed. Then he let go and shoved the paper against the lanky thing's chest, patted it on the shoulder, then slunk off the table.

 

That had been unnerving. As the demon held your hand and tugged you out of the room, you couldn't help but be worried that he would accidentally increase his grip, crushing the fragile bones of your digits.

 

It was 10:30, now. You got the feeling that there was no point to this visit, outside of Bendy's loneliness. It must be boring being cooped up with the mechanic. You didn't imagine Thomas Connor was much of a talker when it came to babysitting demons. It was a nice feeling knowing Bendy trusted you enough to want to hang out, but you were getting drowsier and drowsier the more he tugged you around.

 

After he'd grown bored with animation, he shoved you through a portal to pop downstairs into the music department. Of _all_ places, you did not want to be here.

 

“I'm serious,” you breathed. “I'm gonna be sick if we keep running around with whatever it is those portals are.”

 

Gentle piano music drifted dreamily to your ears. You stiffened. Another soulless monster, here after hours to practice for recording? It was beautiful, but if you had to interact with another one of those creatures, you'd probably pass out. You started to walk in the opposite direction.

 

“I think the stairs are this way,” you mumbled.

 

Bendy bounded and caught the rim of your dress. He shook his head violently and pointed down the way, towards the sound.

 

You yelped and pressed the fabric down so it didn't fly up too far. “You cad!”

 

He didn't understand, and didn't really care. The little thing tugged harder, dragging you about an inch. He just wanted to go listen to the pretty music, was that so wrong?

 

“Fine!” you hissed harshly.

 

Bendy lifted his chin and let go.

 

So you accompanied him onward. The door to the recording studio was cracked; the piano was pouring a sad lament into the corridor; the notes trickling like little raindrops. Bendy peeked and watched the performance, and you angled yourself with him to spy.

 

You could just barely make out who it was through the slit. A shape sat under a dimmed spotlight, his fingers dancing slowly across the ivory. It was the music director himself, Mr. Lawrence. He played all by his lonesome to an audience of none. You didn't know if this made you feel relief or if it made you feel unsettled.

 

You'd only caught the tail end of the song, as Mr. Lawrence stilled. It became deathly quiet. He gave the impression of waiting for something.

 

“...Well?” he finally asked.

 

Someone else stepped into view; Bendy softly enlarged the gap to track them. It seemed the musician was not so alone, after all.

 

“Needs work. And _a lot_ of it,” whined Alice Angel, coming close to him.

 

He shrugged, his fingers hovering above the keys like they were a lover. “After thoughts mustn’t be so picky.”

 

Alice abruptly slammed her hand into the notes, blasting a tumultuous and off key gargle from the abused instrument. You and Bendy both flinched at the harsh noise, but Mr. Lawrence wasn't scared of her in the slightest.

 

“I am not an after thought! I am the star!”

 

The man dropped his hands to his lap and cocked his head up at the tall woman. “You can't even keep your face together without 'liberating' ink from the others,” he was sugar coating it. What he meant was without _murdering_ or several _disfiguring_ others for their thick, stabilizing inks.

 

She grit her teeth, and you watched as small bits of her hair and cheek dissolved in a flurry of emotion.

 

“She's falling apart,” you whispered to Bendy. “Like.. like you.”

 

Bendy's tail flickered soundlessly in response.

 

“Bendy has the luxury of not being perfect, why don't I? You _washed up pianist!_ ” she ground out, seething.

 

This was not the Alice Angel you knew. The one you'd met had been soft spoken and intelligent, despite the fear her voice always struck you with. And even though you knew she pissed Bendy off every time they'd met, you'd never actually witnessed any majorly off putting behavior. Even the time she was chasing after Boris had been inconspicuous, though odd.

 

Mr. Lawrence chuckled darkly. “You wouldn't understand, Susie.”

 

That just pissed her off more. You thought she'd collapse into a faceless mass of black and white ink right there in front of him. Instead she guffawed, punched the keys again, and stormed towards the door.

 

“I'm Alice Angel!” she yelled, voice splitting in two. “What would you know?”

 

She was moving increasingly fast. You hadn't time to scramble out the way before the cracked door went bursting open. You fell back onto your bottom and scooted away, heart pacing agonizingly fast. The keys in your bag clattered and jingled against the floor.

 

She stopped in the frame, face stuck in a snarl. “[Y/N]? The Hell are you doing here?”

 

The woman gave you the shivers. “I was just- Mr. Drew asked me to stay late and I heard music. I was helping look after Bendy! Didn't mean to eavesdrop, right, Bendy? Bendy?”

 

Bendy was nowhere to be found. Your head swiveled this way and that, searching the pitch black corners of the hall to no avail. You gathered your things and stood, confused and embarrassed. Nothing shook you to the core quite like being caught doing something wrong. On top of that, now you were a liar. It was one thing to fib to the ink person from earlier, but Alice Angel was so human. No doubt Sammy had pricked up his ears at the ruckus too, but he hadn't gotten up from his seat.

 

“Well,” you said softly. “He was here a second ago.”

 

She huffed. “I don't have time for this, get out of my w- AH!”

 

The toon jumped and stumbled, lifting her leg and shaking it with grit teeth. Bendy had resurfaced and furiously ambushed her, like a wolf to a stray lamb. Now, he had his fangs sunk sharply into her calf; the flesh gushing thick, black blood. Poor Alice screamed once she realized the cause of her pain was the darlin' himself.

 

“Speak of the devil,” she grunted in a panic, swinging her leg and slamming Bendy against the wall. “I will crush you into a puddle if you don't _let go_ right now!”

 

“You will not!” you heard Mr. Lawrence call from the music room.

 

With adrenaline pumping hot and fresh in your veins, you grasped the rabid demon by the middle of his tail and yanked him hard. “Oh God oh God oh God! Bendy stop! Please!”

 

A second more and he released Alice. For good measure, she kicked him powerfully to the ground with her uninjured leg, then promptly absconded. You faintly heard her cry out “I can't wait till they trash you,” as she disappeared from sight and sound, limp leaking all the way.

 

You stood stock still, the thin string that was Bendy's fifth appendage remaining tight in your fist. He held his stomach where he had been kicked, then coughed and hacked fiercely, splattering up blobs of ink. He retched, and metal clattered to ruined wood. It was the scissors he'd swallowed earlier. You hardly noticed; just stared after Alice.

 

“Why did you do that?” you whispered, still in shock.

 

Bendy couldn't voice his overwhelming emotions; he couldn't explain what he knew. The gooey ink leeching from Alice's calf should have been quite enough of a show to get across just how much _hatred_ was in his black heart. But was he a hypocrite? Bendy didn't think himself so cruel as to compare himself to Alice Angel.

 

The cloudy presence of Mr. Lawrence interrupted your thoughts. His slight shadow cast itself across your back, like a looming storm ready to consume the sun.

 

“You've grown a lot, haven't you?”

 

You barely moved to look over your shoulder. Reluctantly, you answered. “I don't know what you mean, Mr. Lawrence.”

 

His voice was sharp, cutting like a poisoned dagger. “I wasn't talking to you,” then he said much more sugary. “Let me help you. [Y/N], let go of his tail for Heaven's sake.”

 

You did. You turned to watch, but as Mr. Lawrence went to lend his hand to Bendy, Bendy shoved it away and got up himself. He didn't even want to look at the man.

 

Sammy was hurt, but tried not to show it. He stayed squatting, fingers mingling with the ink that had had shed onto the floor, both blood and vomit. “Heard what you said. I know Joey didn't actually ask you to stay, and that makes you a liar. You really shouldn't be here so late. Go home, [Y/N]. You don't belong here,” his narrow eyes flicked to Bendy then back. He added, with jealousy tinged in his tone. “You don't belong with _him._ ”

 

You wanted to ask Sammy why he was here, why he was playing for Alice, why he had called her Susie and why it had made her so mad. But all you got out was “What was-” before Bendy swiped the scissors, shoved them painlessly into his own body, then clasped your hand firmly. He twisted acutely and drug you roughly away, while Sammy watched with some odd mix of frustration and melancholy.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> edit: i forgot to heckin add a few sentences bout how u could have opened the locked office door with wally's keys OOPS


	10. Justification

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Possibly another week before an update. The conclusion to your 'date!' 
> 
> Things... get a little out of control from here.
> 
> Thank you for all your kudos and sweet words :3 I love reading comments. Also, if you're 18+, check out some of my other (original) uploads! You can give em a read while waiting for new chapters.

Bendy took you somewhere dark and calm. You'd never been to this part of the studio before; you weren't even aware that something like this even existed within the walls. The attraction was bare bones right now, but no doubt that this was a prototype for a theme park ride. Mr. Drew had, on occasion during meetings, prattled on about how he was working on getting some rides and games tested. You just didn't realize the proximity of those tests.

 

Tools and toolboxes were littered about. Tracks trod through the dirt, and the cute little water-side houses were unfinished. A few feet away was a shoddy pier, over looking a bout of muddled, shallow water. At least, you thought it was water.

 

As soon as you'd exited the portal, Bendy wandered away to the planks and sat at the edge, empty pie-eyes boring into the distant cave. His legs weren't long enough to dip into the liquid below him.

 

After a few moments of catching your breath, you joined him, setting the purse to the side. You had no idea what compelled you to slip the shoes off your feet and let them into the chilled water, but that was what you did. Despite the vacant, hollow sound the giant cavern produced, and the way darkness ate up nearly every inch of said cavern, the surroundings made you feel much more calm. Any place was better than the music department. The adrenaline began to subside.

 

“So,” you started carefully, side eying the demon at your right. “...What was all that about?”

 

He continued to stare off into the dark, streaks of black dribbling down his teeth and chin from where he'd drawn ink on Alice. Then he shrugged.

 

You sighed and swished your feet. “You've been acting so strange. Is it because you're jealous of her? Or because you think that you can get back at Joey this way? Your smile hardly seems genuine now. You can't make it go away, can you?”

 

Bendy looked down into the water. It was like a black mirror, and you thought perhaps he could see much better in the dark than you could, as he looked to be examining his features. He held up his hands; their white blotched with wet bits from Alice's leg. His thought a moment. Then he opened his maw and out slid a split tongue, lapping up the ink in long stripes.

 

You grimaced and looked away. “I'm starting to think you're not really Bendy.”

 

His head jerked, surprised. The tail thumped with aggravation; you had hit a nerve. In response he leaned with a squeezing hand to your thigh, and pointed at his face excitedly.

 

For once you got what he was trying to say, even through the bolt of pain from his grip. “Doesn't matter if you _look_ like Mr. Stein's drawings, you don't act the way you're written! Sure, sometimes Bendy and Alice feud, but damn, Bendy's never tried to kill her! You could have seriously hurt Alice!”

 

He dramatically turned from you and crossed his arms, sour.

 

The two of you sat in silence for a good solid minute or two, mulling things over. You'd never had such a serious disagreement with him before. Yeah, you had to yell at him not to annoy people sometimes. You even had to keep him calm in the face of religious opposition. But never had you felt so... wrong on the inside about it.

 

Though it had never come from your mouth, you had a strong affection and attachment to the thing beside you. You'd made your bed with your previous rationalizations that his origins meant nothing; that he was capable of love and forgiveness like any other Godless animal. And among those thoughts you had never been hopelessly afraid, even when facing the portals for the first time. There had always been some amount of faith entrusted in Bendy.

 

_'You're lying to yourself,'_ your mind loudly declared. _'There have been times you were scared, like everyone else.'_

 

If you made him really, actually angry, would he bite you too? You were full of blood, not ink. You would bleed out in a cold corner of the campus if he snapped suddenly and decided to chomp on you right then and there. You shuttered to imagine that scene. It wasn't just the idea that you could be harmed or die that upset you you most, though. It was knowing that if he really was okay doing something like that to you, your heart would be broken.

 

Then something equally as heart breaking came to mind. You swallowed dryly, then asked. “Bendy... what Mr. Connor said to me before, when he was about to take you-”

 

His horns twitched and his head moved slightly, listening.

 

“-he said that you didn't have a soul. That's what he said. I've been thinking about it and wanted to ask.. do... do you have one? A soul?”

 

He turned on his bottom to face you once more, arms still crossed. The way he just stared at you motionlessly gave you goosebumps. You awaited something, _anything._ A cock of the head, a swish of the tail, a drumming of thick fingers; but he just stared at you with his unreadable cartoon eyes.

 

Your lips parted, and dread burrowed deeply into your guts like maggots. “Oh God,” you whined, crumpling over your legs and hugging yourself tight. “I'm going to Hell.”

 

Perhaps, you began to admit, Bendy and Alice weren't the only ones who had something off about them. You had also begun to change and reform into something totally different than originally planned. You were corrupting. Why were you even trying to stay in the light? Why were you making excuses? There could no longer be any forgiveness, you were too far in. So why even abstain?

 

Skin jumped as his gloved hand splayed over your arched back. He stroked gently in long movements, attempting to comfort. And when you sniffled, the beginning of tears stinging at the corner of your eyes, you heard the tiniest little whispered voice grace the hollow cavern, not even loud enough to echo.

 

“ _Don't cry.”_

 

You straightened a bit and rubbed the miniscule amount of saline away, lidded eyes searching his frozen face. The streaks of Alice's ink still eerily coated his mouth and chin.

 

“Did you say that?”

 

He tilted his head and kept stroking your back so that you would feel better. You supposed he'd never seen you this upset before, let alone upset enough to cry. _He_ made you cry. Not Joey, not Sammy or Alice, _him._

 

Despite everything, despite the fear you'd been struck with watching him sink into the angel (Susie?), and knowing that he really had no soul inside his tiny little body, you couldn't help but smile softly. He was trying, at least. You stretched your toes in the cold water, aware of the numbness setting in. You were shivering, and groggy, and anxious. You wanted to go home.

 

A glance at your watch had you gasping. “It's past midnight! Oh, I should have left an hour ago,” you yawned. “Can you take me back where I came in?”

 

Ink sprawled over the wooden boards, then far behind upon a wall gaped a portal. As you stood, you noticed your feet were black. What you thought had been water had actually been a river of ink. Amazing. You absently wondered if that was purposeful, or if the pipes down here simply couldn't hold their own and had been contaminating what had once been clear water.

 

You tugged the purse strap over your shoulder, shoved the shoes in, and sleepily followed Bendy (while leaving a trail of inky footprints). This time you did not get sick, which was a delight. Where ever you'd ended up, it was too pitch black to see. You stumbled against the wooden walls and flicked the light switch. Upon having found that you'd been taken to your own office, you gave Bendy a questioning look.

 

“You're off by a whole floor. I wanted to go to the door, Bendy, not my office. I need to get home before I'm too tired to even drive.”

 

When you wiggled the handle, you found it to be locked. That didn't make any sense. Your brows furrowed. You tried the lock in various positions, believing the door to have jammed; slammed your palm into it hoping it would become unstuck. You even tried Wally's keys. Nothing worked.

 

“Bendy?”

 

He perked up. Then he opened a small Bendy-sized portal behind himself and fell back into it. The portal dematerialized just as quickly as it had been formed.

 

You gasped and squeaked indigently. You were locked in. Alone.

 

This was what you got for trusting a demon. You felt like a fool. But could you really expect anything less from someone who admitted to being born with no soul hardly fifteen minutes ago? You bet he was getting revenge on you for sticking him in here every night, by himself, for months. But that had been for his own safety! So that Mr. Lawrence couldn't harass him! Maybe Bendy didn't see it that way, though.

 

You slumped soundlessly into your chair, head hung low and eyes fixed to the floor. The purse over your arm plopped down. Just as the seeds of sorrow started to sow in your heart, the little hole reappeared and Bendy stepped back inside. You jolted with surprise. Then you just felt guilty for even doubting him. Again. When would you learn?

 

There was a pile of fabrics stacked high in his arms, blocking his face. It was rather comical the way he shifted, off balance, into the middle of the room. He dropped them unceremoniously to the ground and stood akimbo. Then he fell over into them, patting the space beside his body when you had yet to move.

 

Seconds clicked by. He patted again, harder.

 

“You want me to stay here, overnight?”

 

He nodded and snapped his fingers.

 

Well. You supposed you could do that. What harm would it do? Your only concern was that Bendy would be discovered missing in the morning, and you would be the suspect who kidnapped him. In reality, Bendy had been the one to drag you here, not the other way around. You couldn't even get out the door. Who would believe that, though?

 

Your legs moved on their own, taking you across the room and nestling into the haphazard bunch. As you settled, laying on your back like a starfish next to the cozy demon, you wondered. “Where did you get this stuff?”

 

He shuttered like he was laughing, and then snuggled in against your side under your arm.

 

A bit of shuffling and observation revealed that you were laying on top of a number of forgotten jackets, clean towels, and at least one tarp. Luckily the tarp was at the bottom of the pile, and could not bother your skin with its uncomfortably crinkly surface.

 

The two of you laid there for a bit. You wondered if Bendy was actually trying to fall asleep. In any case, you just found shapes in the ceiling and listened to the vents popping in the halls. It was very peaceful, once you got over the initial creepiness of Joey Drew Studios during the candle light hours. A pipe burst somewhere, echoing off the walls, and you didn't even jump.

 

You turned your head and watched him. There was no indication of breath; no rise and fall of his chest. His eyes had closed, looking like a strange, child-sized doll being so deathly still. The dripping was more stunted in his relaxed state, but it continued on even if slowed. This almost made you believe the incident earlier was all a bad dream, and that this, here in your office, was the real world. You could pretend he was something else, that he wasn't a funny gray area, that liking him so much wasn't damning to your chances of a bountiful afterlife. That he hadn't magically locked you in your office.

 

_'As if I'd get into Heaven anyways,'_ you thought involuntarily.

 

That idea struck you so heavily that you nearly started to cry again. It was like an anvil had been dropped atop your unsuspecting head. Bendy flipped and wrapped his arms around your stomach when your throat tightened and you accidentally wheezed. He nestled, and it tickled.

 

“I'm fine,” you said, controlling your voice and swallowing. “I just feel like things are changing so fast. There's been no time to adjust.”

 

He nodded.

 

“...I want you to know that if things go wrong, I'll stick up for you. But please, please don't hurt anyone else. Okay? You can try, can't you? To be good?”

 

This time he did not nod. He could not promise to avoid instinct; the primal desires growing within him since birth, screaming for him to _act._ The numerous noises and voices in his living, squirming inky abyss of a body asking who they were, where they were, when could they go home. He could hear them all. And they stung, like crunching into marrow. It took all his strength to distinguish his own thoughts from theirs. And though he grew better at it with every passing day, he could never make them be quiet. Even pushing down the pain from the animation employee earlier had been a feat.

 

Still, your sweet words percolated deeply within his mind, bubbling up until he clambered atop your body. You grunted and steadied him so that he didn't end up kicking you in the ribs or something.

 

“What are you doing? You're heavy.”

 

His smiling face beamed down at your wince. Bendy wanted to lick your neck and then settle there possessively, but the more civilized part of him was telling him _no no no._ Another part of him wanted to press his palms against the throat and watch you turn pretty hues, before eventually letting you up. That was another firm _no._ So, he just settled for scooting back and laying his head down against your chest, where he could listen to your human heart and lungs.

 

You stroked down his side and stared at the ceiling. “...Me and you have something strange, and I'm sorta embarrassed to talk about it out loud. Everyone gives me funny looks and I _know_ they _know_. Hey, I never thanked you for the black flower,” you blushed. “So... thanks. It made me really happy.”

 

He rubbed his cheek against your dress and purred with pleasure, gloved hands balling into the fabric. Then his eyes closed and he stilled.

 

“Alright,” you laughed curtly, a little relieved. “Suppose you don't wanna talk about it. Goodnight, Bendy.”

 

The pressure of his weight was rather relaxing. Still, even with your eyes closed and the pressure upon your chest, you found sleep to be evading you. Things just felt wrong wrong _wrong_. The two halves of your consciousness- the brain and the heart- argued on and on. It exhausted you, yet here you were, remaining awake against your will.

 

How could you justify this; breaking and entering just to totter after a demon and let him curl up sweetly against your chest and tummy. Yes, you now admitted, he really did terrify you. But that did nothing to dissuade your more pink emotions. Was the pleasant way he made your heart feel justification enough? You didn't figure that would hold up with any of your peers, nor with Mr. Drew. You could only imagine the disappointed expression upon Mr. Connor's face if you told him how you felt; why it was you wanted to badly to keep your previous job.

 

How could you justify staring blankly after Alice as she fled from Bendy's teeth, or how you watched Bendy eerily lick her ooze from his gloves? Especially after you'd started feeling with near certainty that Susie Campbell and Alice Angel were, by some miracle of God or Satan himself, one and the same.

 

Eventually you dozed off into dreamless slumber, with the lingering thought that, truthfully, you had no excuse strong enough to justify your actions.

 


	11. Wrong

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Been pretty busy irl. Besides that, my obligations to original/commissioned content always comes before fanfics. Figured I'd go ahead and upload this one, but it could be a little bit before the next updates.
> 
> Thanks to everyone reading! ^_^

You came from your sleep as if your eyes had never even shut. They simply opened, and there was distant human noise all about the building; seemed you'd slept through the night, after all. A glance around revealed no Bendy, but he had gathered up the look-alike dolls in the room and piled them around you before he'd left. You clumped them up and snuggled against the rabbit soft fabric, and were too groggy to hear the door squeak open.

 

It was one of the men from the storyboard department. “[Y/N] we have a- what are you doing on the floor? Covered in- oh never mind, I don't even want to know.”

 

You slowly sat up, and a look down revealed that what was once a lovely pastel dress had been totally ruined with ink. It was as if someone had thrown a whole bucket of the stuff at you, and you'd either been unable or unwilling to jump out of the way. You weren't upset, but you were embarrassed to be caught looking this way.

 

“Joey called a meeting, so you'd better change. Weeeell, you might not have time to if you gotta zip home, but I know you used to bring changes of clothes to work sometimes so-”

 

He would ramble if you didn't stop him. You ran a hand through your clumpy hair and said. “Yeah, yeah thanks, but when is the meeting?”

 

The man cut himself off, as if this question totally derailed what he had meant to say. He shook his head to clear his thoughts. “In an hour! So chop chop!” He left you to your devices, door slamming shut.

 

You did not have a change of clothes. But what you did have was the ability to brew a pot of coffee in the break room before clocking in late on the first floor (to exaggerated expressions), then return Wally's keys. The coffee removed any traces of grogginess as you gulped the last drop down. Then you took your seat in the meeting room.

 

It was more of a presentation or class room than anything else. A myriad of folding chairs dotted the rectangle-shaped space, and at the head was a slightly raised platform with a projector in front. You watched the room fill out, and were anxious to find Mr. Lawrence, Mr. Connor, and his wife to be absent. Mr. Drew was present though, and he marched confidently upon the front platform to soon start the meeting.

 

The head honcho prepared himself for whatever cloy speech he had planned. His meetings could hardly be called such; it was more like he just _talked_ at the room. As he made some last adjustments to his suit, your neighbor gave you a repulsive side eye and moved a seat over. You were used to such treatment, but severely wished you could change into something that didn't make you look like you stood directly under a burst pipe for funsies.

 

Finally it started. You zoned out as he went on about dreams, and making an effort, and blah blah blah. He was haggard and skinny upon the platform, leaning heavily against his cane and pacing around the stage. While Bendy grew, Joey shrunk. The lights highlighting him did nothing to make him any more attractive. Even so, nothing changed about the way his voice boomed and filled the area with ease. You couldn't help but remember the way he used that booming voice of his to yell at Bendy and the (previously voiceless) Alice every time he attempted to film them in the past.

 

“Now, we all know that animation production has halted to a crawl. But with a little elbow grease, and a pinch of magic, I believe we can get this place back on the right track!” His movements were wide and comical, like he himself were a cartoon. He ignored the groans. “Why as we speak, my trusty handyman, Tom, is toiling away to bring my dreams to fruition. Anyone know what that means?”

 

He waited, eyes roving attentively across the small crowd. So many seats stayed empty, evidence of widespread resignations and layoffs.

 

“Are we going to give Boris a voice?” someone offered.

 

“Close, but wrong! Firstly, Mrs. Allison will _finally_ be replacing Ms. Susie as the voice of Alice Angel. Our pal Sammy is working closely with her to get those pipes a' singin'! Just the way we like'em!” Then he added, much more quick and quiet. “Course, our old Alice will be working at the future theme park, granted we can fix her face. If not, there are always extras that need a voice,” he yanked at his collar, overheated.

 

Before anyone could comment, Joey wobbled across the stage, ranting on like he was the only one in the room. “And as for our little devil darlin', the star of the show... we've all known he's needed some workin' on for a while now, haven't we? Well, I think I've found a way to do just that! Our beloved Tom has _also_ been tinkering away at the heart that gives Joey Drew Studios life- the ink machine herself! I believe that's the key to all of this. So by golly, our Bendy _will_ be on model, and he _will_ have a voice!”

 

Someone raised their hand, and Mr. Drew gladly called upon them.

 

“How are we paying for all this?” they scoffed. “I mean, all that ink... more and more is shipped to the studio, day in, day out. Is this really worth it? Just yesterday a pipe exploded and flooded our entire hall! It could have damaged our _expensive_ equipment!”

 

Mr. Drew's smile twitched. He stopped pacing; he did not want to even think about money. “My boy, money is no object when it comes to fulfilled dreams. When you're-”

 

The closed door to the meeting room was a gunshot as it opened.

 

“Joey,” the stern, serious voice of Sammy Lawrence called loudly. “We-”

 

Joey's face went beet red and he cut him off. _“We're having a meeting!”_

 

Sammy's eyes darkened. You could see where his pants had been completely drenched up to the knees in sopping black ink. “We have a problem,” he finally got out, ignoring the crowd's panicked expressions.

 

Mr. Drew had swiftly, but reluctantly, called the meeting right there. People filed out uneasily. You lingered just long enough to see Mr. Lawrence talking with his hands at Mr. Drew, before leading him out of a side door.

 

It was after that moment that you had stopped seeing Bendy. In fact, the only ink creatures you began to see around were an empty-headed Boris and the scrawny, soulless employees. Mr. Connor, his wife, and Alice Angel had all but gone, too. And whenever you saw Mr. Lawrence, he had this funny expression on his face. He still smiled when you made eye contact, though. Mr. Drew would not open his office door.

 

Another bland week had gone by of brooding before anything of note happened. You noticed spots of dropped ink around the rim of your pencil cup, where you'd set the black tulip. It concerned you and made your heart ache. So, missing Bendy's spooky yet warming presence, you decided to lurk around the lower levels, near Mr. Connor's room.

 

Small flecks of ink in the wooden floors piqued your interest. They didn't really lead much of anywhere. Rather, they speckled and dotted all of the hallways surrounding the man's office. There were no signs of Bendy moving through walls; no Bendy-sized blotches in the boards that said he was using portals.

 

Then Mr. Connor caught you.

 

“...[Y/N], what are you doing down here?” he asked, sounding weary.

 

You were still ebbing away the shock at been found snooping about. “I was just,” you sighed, realizing you were tired of being a liar. “I was looking for Bendy.”

 

His brows furrowed. Something was way off about him. His fingernails were caked in dried ink, he hadn't shaved in a couple of days, and it even looked like he had yet to wipe away the trails where he'd been crying earlier.

 

“Me, too.”

 

His haggard appearance compelled you to speak softly. “He got out? Yeah, he does that. I don't mean to be rude, but... you look pretty exhausted Mr. Connor, when's the last time you slept?”

 

The man sighed and rubbed his callused hand through his messy hair. “I don't know. But I already put my two weeks notice in with Mr. Drew, and he's working me to the bone. One more week.”

 

You nodded quietly, understanding. “Guess he means to milk every coin from you. Hey, I could help you look for him if you want! Bendy, I mean.”

 

That sad expression he'd given you when he'd first caught you returned in full force. He studied your face. Then he leaned on the wall and reached into his pocket to get a cigarette. You waited silently as he lit it up and took a long, well deserved huff. Then his eyes were on you once more.

 

“[Y/N]. He's not the same.”

 

You scrunched your face, ignoring the sour smell. “Yeah, I know. That's why Mr. Drew handed him off to you. Did you fix him?” then you added nervously. “I remember a week ago, Mr. Lawrence stormed into the meeting room and said something went wrong.”

 

He took another drag, calming himself down. Mr. Connor couldn't look you in the eyes at what came next. “No. We couldn't fix him. He got _worse_. You won't be able to take him back, [Y/N].”

 

You were greatly confused, unsure how to answer. Dread set in, in spite of it. You snorted. “Y-you're kidding. How could he get worse?”

 

Mr. Connor's eyes lifted, glancing behind you, then back to your face, then back away again. He hesitated, then gestured with the hand that held his cigarette. “See for yourself. Seems he found us.”

 

Perplexed expression still plastered over your features, you twisted to look behind you. Instantly your heart stopped and you froze over, ice filling your blood.

 

“That's not Bendy.”

 

“I'm sorry. We really tried.”

 

“Thomas, that is _NOT_ Bendy.”

 

He just sighed.

 

At the mouth of the hall was an equally frozen body. He stood in place, swaying. From the neck down he was human, if a human had taken swimming lessons in a lake of sticky black ink. And, like the ink employees, his body was stick thin. You could see his ribs. One hand was covered in a white glove, and he had an offset bow tie upon his chest. Then from the neck up, he was cartoon. A wide, Bendy-shaped head sat atop his skinny shoulders. The ooze covered whatever pie-eyes might be there, but left his far-too-wide, white grin visible to all.

 

Even though he seemingly had no eyes, you felt his gaze piercing into your pores. It felt as if he could see everything about you. Right into your very soul. The hairs on your neck and arm were standing, and he was giving you a fight or flight response something mighty. Yet, you couldn't bare to move. He didn't, either.

 

“Joey is trying to figure out a way to get rid of him. Bendy just won't _die,_ like the rest of his creations.”

 

Your lips foundered and you shook, still unable to turn back to the mechanic behind you. “You've killed them?” you whispered.

 

“Joey has. When they're not correct. He's tried to erase Bendy in the past, but nothing ever worked. He's in his office now, researching.”

 

You got the distinct feeling that Mr. Connor was giving you more information than he was allowed. This was confirmation to you that they had, at least once or twice, replaced Boris by killing and recreating him. Did Joey not see them as alive? You swallowed. Did you see that thing at the end of the hall as alive?

 

The not-Bendy took a few steps forward, towards the two of you. You seized up and almost bumped into Mr. Connor's chest.

 

“St-stay back!”

 

Surprisingly, he stopped. His head tilted and he looked around. Then he backed up, and limped down the way he had come, away from you and out of sight. The cold slowly seeped from your body as he left.

 

“I'm sorry, [Y/N].”

 

You were able to regain enough courage to face Mr. Connor again. It looked like he was on the verge of tears, but you didn't understand why. He had not been invested in either you nor Bendy, this should not affect him so passionate. Perhaps it was something else? Stress from the long nights? Moral compromise hurting his heart?

 

“Mr. Connor, are you okay?”

 

He smiled sadly at you. “No. Get out of this place as soon as you possibly can. Mr. Drew destroys the good in everyone he touches.”

 

Somehow, you had the audacity to ask. “What about Miss Allison? Is she quitting too?”

 

His lip quivered. “Just leave this place [Y/N]. I have work to do.”

 

He wiped his tired eyes with one big, dirty hand as he marched away down the hall to his office. As his body disappeared, you heard him repeat faintly _“one more week, just one more week.”_

 


	12. Maybe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Been about a month... I told ya I was getting busy irl, haha! I got a new full time job! Meaning most chores get done on weekends, leaving me only so long to work... and since fanfics are on the back burner compared to commissions, requests, and original content, it's going slooow... plus I had to re-write chapter 14 cause it was.. eh. garbage-y. Buuut on the bright side, I just finished chapter 15, and plot items are speeding up >:D

That face from the hall stuck with you. It plastered itself so thoroughly in your mind that, when you closed your eyes at night, all you saw was that smile. That wide, unholy smile. You had been struck with such a sense of fear that you had been unable to even blink. But then your thoughts traveled to your office, your cluttered work space, and the black tulip within your pencil cup. Your mind replayed it wilting and dripping, like little Bendy himself.

 

“ _We couldn't fix him. He got_ worse _. You won't be able to take him back, [Y/N].”_

 

Had that tall, spindly thing really once been the tiny rambunctious devil you'd called sweet? Were he and the fussy demon you hefted in your arms one and the same? It seemed impossible, but Mr. Connor had been sure of it.

 

And Mr. Drew. _Joey._ He had tried to murder Bendy on more than one occasion, and no doubt killed and reincarnated Boris, and possibly even Alice.

 

“ _He's tried to erase Bendy in the past, but nothing ever worked.”_

 

All those times Bendy went to Joey's office, returning terrified or insanely fake. You couldn't forgive him. Joey was nothing more than a conman, twisting people into whatever shape pleased his fucked up ideals. And here you were, helping him write his cartoons so he could make his fortune. If anyone was a demon, it was him.

 

It was mid-morning now, and you could do nothing but stare at the dying black tulip in your hand. If that thing down in the lower levels was indeed the same Bendy, then he was probably sad, and scared, and angry. He would be losing mass and wilting just like the flower in your hand.

 

And you had told him to stay back. How could you?

 

You took a deep, steadying breath. Fuck writing scripts for Joey, you had more important things to occupy your time. The ink tulip was decaying as if organic, and the only objective searing into your brain was to bring it to Bendy. That strange, swaying thing had frightened the daylights out of you. But if it was him, and if you just _tried,_ perhaps you would be able to bring out the Bendy he was before. Curiosity, impatience, mischievousness. You would be able to feel if he was the same devil you had known. With any luck, the tulip would spring his memory.

 

And, if you could not find a droplet of familiarity within his smile, you resolved yourself to let go. Not that it would be remotely easy. It would be no different than a death. And then after that, you would quit. If Bendy were dead you would not be able to wander the halls any longer, not without feeling a terrible emptiness. Even though you were slowly parting from the brighter sides of religion, you gave a silent prayer that you would not have to give up on he nor your job just yet. So, you grasped the tulip's stem firmly, and took the elevator down.

 

After a short time treading the maze-like corridors and seeing nothing, you found yourself tapping at Mr. Connor's door. No answer. A harder knock and the door gave; it was unlocked and open.

 

“Mr. Connor?”

 

You gasped. Thomas wasn't there, but the maybe-Bendy was. He had his back to you, facing the desk with something in his hands. The only indication he'd heard your voice was the twitch of a horn. Well, you supposed his inclination to not give his attention hadn't changed. You couldn't help but notice he no longer had a tail. Rather, there was the sharp jut of his pelvic bone. He looked very much like the ink had swallowed a whole human skeleton, before soldering on Bendy's head.

 

Frozen in the frame, you had half a mind to run and flee. But there he was- wasn't he the one you'd been searching the halls for? A hard look at the flower in hand helped steady your rising blood pressure. No, you weren't going to run. And even if he took a step towards you, you would not turn him away again. This was happening, and it was happening now.

 

You cleared your throat. “Bendy? Are you Bendy?”

 

He still didn't move. You were forced to take a tentative step inside the dimly lit room, hoping to stir him from his stupor. The light switch didn't work.

 

“It's [Y/N]. D-do you remember me?”

 

Anxiously, and so so slowly, you tiptoed closer. A trembling hand outstretched, and carefully swiped at his back to call attention. He jerked, perking up with a slow swivel of his head. You leaped back in fear, but he was at least watching you now. The tulip was gripped closely to your chest in tight fists. For a while, you just stared, unable to look away from his head. The maybe-Bendy stared back.

 

“Do you remember me?” you asked again, voice catching.

 

He gently sat down what had been in his hands. It was a picture of Thomas and Allison, though now the glass of the frame was smeared with black, so you couldn't see the photograph.

 

He thought. _Did he remember you?_ The ink mixed and mingled and dripped and consumed, but he was his own person, he was his own thing entirely, and he could distinguish his thoughts if he concentrated hard. So, Bendy would concentrate hard for you. He tilted his head, the curvature of his boney spine well defined as he shifted weight.

 

He was remembering something. He remembered _'stay back'_ and Thomas's bad smelling smoke from yesterday. He tried to remember more. He remembered Thomas chasing after him, because he did not want to stay in that boring office all day. But today Thomas had not come in, nor had come chasing after him, so Bendy had limped into the office of his own accord, until you showed up to distract him.

 

His head slowly arched the other way. Bendy tried to remember further, past that. It made him cringe, closing his fists. He remembered being coaxed somewhere he did not want to go, with a strange human, and then an all consuming mass of ink, because they had tried to fix him. It hurt. He remembered Sammy's voice and how it pissed him off. And he remembered nervous Allison, and then Alice screaming at her, and Thomas crying a lot. He felt bad for Thomas.

 

His head went back to the first position. You were starting to wonder if there was anything in his mind at all. He was simply standing and staring at you, occasionally cocking his head one way or the other. And though that did remind you of the little Bendy in the after-hour halls, surely the similar body language was coincidence. The longer you waited, the further your heart sank. A lump formed in your throat, and you couldn't swallow it down.

 

“Bendy?”

 

He remembered a river of ink among the deep caves of Joey Drew Studios, and the ink-blood that dripped into the mirror below. Then he remembered the gentle tingle of Wally's stolen keys, the way the pages of a Bible tasted, and the sweetest voice he'd ever known whispering regretfully in the dark of a foreign room _'sleep, Bendy.'_

 

The creepy caricature of Bendy straightened and shook, and the sudden movement had you taking a step back. His attention fell to the tulip in your grasp. The single gloved hand sprawled open, and he waited patiently for you to drop it into his palm. A twitch of the fingers beckoned you to comply.

 

When the flower hit his hand, it began to dissolve into the glove. You watched with fascination as the black swirled and curled into the white, like watercolor, before siphoning off into the black of his body. He had reabsorbed it, and it totally mesmerized you. But then your focus snapped back up as the creature wobbled towards you. Instinctively, you backed until you pressed to the wall. You cornered yourself; this had been a bad idea.

 

“Wait,” you whispered harshly without thinking. “Stop!”

 

He stood in front of you, much too close for comfort. You wondered if he could sense the rapid beating of your heart as it tried to rip from your ribcage. After a moment of thought, he lifted both his hands and grasped your shoulders carefully. You squeaked, tensing and shutting your eyes. Pressure pushed downwards, and when you didn't budge, he pressed harder. You found your knees crumpling; you slid down the wall until you sat on the floor and he squatted in front.

 

Eventually your eyes reopened, just for you to realize his black humanoid hand moved up from your shoulder. It was mere inches away from cupping your cheek, unmoving, like he was conflicted. He dropped it. Then he readjusted uncomfortably onto his bony rear, laid awkwardly beside you, and pillowed his wide head into your empty lap.

 

“Oh.”

 

He just wanted to cuddle. _He just wanted to cuddle._ Hope sprung forth, blossoming out your mouth with words like sugar. You so desperately wanted to believe it was him. “It really is you! Oh, I'm so sorry! What have they done to you?”

 

The head on your legs grumbled, and he wrapped his (now much longer) arms around your thighs and calves, making it more comfortable.

 

Tears were actually falling, now. Your body shuttered with the choked sounds, but the drops dripped in spite of the silence. An unsteady hand sat itself against one of his amorphous horns, running down it and pooling ink against your human skin.

 

Bendy turned to his back, so that he could look up. Then, with his gloved hand, he wiped at your face. It was a little too rough, and you imagined it looked rather silly, but you appreciated it. With his human shaped hand, he oozed out a stream of steady flowing ink, until it smoothly solidified. A new flower was formed. He plucked it out, and offered it up.

 

You sniffled. “The tulip.. you fixed it for me.”

 

He gave a single, barely noticeable nod.

 


	13. Communication

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Miss me? ;) 
> 
> Short chapter.

You'd grown tired of tears and being afraid. While there was still a gash cut deeply into your heart, you knew it was high time to focus. After all, there had to be _something_ you could do to help Bendy. Not only was Joey searching for a way to blot out Bendy from the face of the Earth, he was showing up less and less these to the studio. The only upside was that the sparse staff (including you) had a wider run of the joint due to the poor management. People took longer lunch breaks, the band was a skeleton of its former self, and even the janitor, Wally, started clocking in just to coop up in his closet with a radio. It felt like total anarchy.

 

It wasn't just the staff who were causing the animation pipeline mishaps, though. The studio itself was falling into physical disarray. The ink was leaking everywhere now; without Mr. Connor, there was no one left to keep the pipes in place. Recently, you'd narrowly escaped your doom when a section of the floorboards became rotten with ink and collapsed in the hallway. You kept rounding corners to discover something had burst and flooded the corridor, where just an hour before it had been clear. The place should have been condemned.

 

In the midst of all the chaos and confusion, you could at least afford to miss some deadlines. No one had come to your door to cause Hell over the recent script being late, and you knew no one would much miss the next, either. Honestly, you weren't even sure there _was_ a storyboard department to bang at your office door anymore. You hadn't seen hide nor hair of them since that last meeting.

 

You thought back to that day. Joey had declared that animation production was to be rectified due to his secretive plans. Yet, here the studio was, still two weeks behind schedule, now with more mechanical failures than ever, and with its star in greater disarray than before. Joey obviously knew he had failed, too. It must be why he was avoiding work so frequently. His bad leadership skills and financial downfall was your good luck, though. Gave you time to think and Joey a mound of stress.

 

And that strange creature who you'd first been frighted of was Bendy. _Your_ Bendy. Hardly a week ago he'd laid his head in your lap, forming a new flower from his own body just to dry your tears. But, even though it was obvious that he was the same devil you'd toted around, he had still changed _immensely._ He had a hard time recalling specific information and moved disconcertingly slow, as if calculating or unsure. Words didn't get through to him easily. It took some time for him to process. But he was still yours. That was all that really mattered to you, and you would take care of him.

 

You drummed your fingers.

 

Bendy, so far, had refused to use the stairs or elevator, essentially trapping himself within the lower levels. He opted to standing about Mr. Connor's now empty office, or limping around the surrounding corridors. Everyone avoided the floor because of it, horrified at the notion of coming into contact. And because Mr. Connor had his final day last week (apparently leaving with Allison?), Bendy was rampant without a keeper. As soon as he decided he was tired of that floor, surely he would pop into a more populated level and frighten the piss out of everybody. He needed guidance again.

 

Joey had yet to contact you about regaining your previous position. He was rather occupied, you supposed, with trying to figure out a way to destroy Bendy, or simply avoiding his mistakes altogether by not coming into work. Thinking about it made you so angry that you nearly drew blood digging your fingernails into your fist. You didn't need his approval. You didn't even need a raise. Somehow, you would aid Bendy. But first... you needed him to remember himself.

 

A trip to Shawn Flynn's workshop had been an eerie reminder that Joey Drew Studios was soon to be in the shitter. Mr. Flynn had been nowhere to be seen, leaving only two or three inky employees to work by their lonesome. You ignored them the best you could and swiped a few new, pristine plushies off the shelf. They gave no protest, though one observed you solemnly.

 

The elevator was apparently malfunctioning (big surprise), so you took the stairs. You found Bendy sitting against the edge of Mr. Connors old desk, staring up at the ceiling. He liked to hole up here. You hoped these toys would spring forth some memories of what, and who, Bendy was. You gave them a wiggle in your arms. “Bendy, I brought you something!”

 

He shifted, and after a moment turned his gaze across you. After he registered what you were holding, he perked up, horns lifting, but he still didn't move from his spot.

 

You stepped close but kept a reasonable distance, still rather nervous with his newly formed appearance. “I got the whole gang! Boris, Alice, and.. well, you! See?”

 

The stuffed animals were carefully lined up onto the desk, where he could play at his leisure. You took a step back, giving him some space. Fingers fidgeted.

 

Bendy turned and stared at the toys for a while. He glanced towards you, as if for approval, and then he chose Boris. The wolf was examined, ears being moved between gentle black fingers. He sat it down neatly. Then he lifted Alice Angel's doll, brought it close to his face, snarled, and ate it whole. You cringed and cleared your throat. Finally, he came upon his own likeness.

 

“Th-that one is you! It has your face and everything,” as he scrutinized it thoroughly, you rambled on. “You used to sneak off and steal dozens of those. Naturally you just _had_ to hoard them all up in my office! Along with shirts and posters and film reels. I had such a hard time figuring out how you did that, ya know. Sorta miss it- not knowing. Well, what can you do?”

 

His body faced you, listening. Bendy waited a few seconds after you'd stopped, to make sure you had really stopped. Then he pointed at the doll and up at his face.

 

Vigorous nod. “Yes, that's what you look like!”

 

Bendy, slow as ever, scrutinized the toy some more. You wondered what was going on in his head at that moment, as he held it like a delicate China plate. He felt the soft, fuzzy material with his human hand, rubbing the pad of his thumb over the surface. He then wrung around the neck and tugged lightly. Another much harsher tug saw the seams ripping with ease, and you instinctively rushed forward to take his hands.

 

“Don't do that,” you whispered roughly. “You'll rip it all up.”

 

He stopped as soon as skin met ink. Your hands were touching, and he was focused on you. Heat rose from the depths of your stomach up to your cheeks, and you flinched back.

 

These were _not_ feelings you should still have, considering the circumstances. Fear apparently wasn't stopping the way your chest pounded delightfully, or the way your belly got queasy in the nicest way possible.

 

“Just... be careful, okay?” you peeped, swallowing thickly.

 

He nodded, focus back on the toy. Eventually he sat it down beside Boris. His gloved hand slid against the flat wooden surface, where office supplies had once been strewn. The picture frame had been removed, since Mr. Connor left. Bendy's hand rested where it once sat, and you wondered if he actually missed Thomas.

 

You crossed your arms. “Thomas was the only one who ever offered to tell me _anything_ , and now he's gone. I'm happy he and his wife got out, but... now no one is around to give me answers. No way I could go to Sammy, but I know he knows what's been going on. That creep creeps me out,” you shuttered. “Oh, if walls could talk.”

 

The demon bristled at mention of Sammy, body shaking and shivering. He got excited so easily, but his anger and his joy were hard to differentiate between now'a'days. At the very least in this case, you could be certain he was not happy about hearing Sammy's name. He was never _ever_ happy to hear Sammy. Bendy's hand brushed against his grin, barely grazing the surface of his face.

 

Talking talking talking. Oh yes, if only he could talk, as he'd lost his voice, like the bones inside him swallowed it up. They got stuck in his throat, ink coating them until there were no more words left. Things hardly ever made sense anymore; neither in his head nor in the world outside of it. The one beacon of light was _you._ Your voice rang so clear, like a bell in the midst of a dark, dark prairie, calling the little mortal people into worship. Where was he going with this again?

 

“I should go back upstairs... things are kinda messed up up there. But I still do _eventually_ have to finish my recent script,” then you mumbled. “Not that an animation has been finished in like, forever.”

 

He wanted to _talk._ He wanted to _communicate._ Bendy's hands flexed, and he growled, startling you.

 

You got the wrong idea. “Or, u-um, I can stay a little longer,” you offered palms up in peace with a grimace.

 

Bendy shook his head, glancing around as if confused. Every fiber of his being wanted to communicate your worth, wanted to tell you all his thoughts, but instead he stood there forever in contemplation. Time was running out, he felt it, things grew more wrong with each passing second of the treacherous clock. Bendy wanted to give you what you wanted. You wanted to be given answers, and that was a quest he could easily understand. But was that something he was capable of giving? He stared down at his likeness on the desk.

 

A sigh. “You're not listening, are you?”

 

Oh, had you been talking? He slumped a little.

 

“I was saying, if you ever get bored of these halls, my office is always open,” your eyes fell to the dirty, ink-blotched floor. “... it could be like before, when you were short. I don't mind if you lurk around, observing me work.”

 

He watched you rock and shuffle awkwardly on your feet. You gave a funny expression; was it shyness or anxiousness?

 

“I miss you.”

 

It was the smallest voice he'd heard since growing tall, bringing back the memories of your nice warm bed. He had to do _something._

 


	14. Open Doors

You perked up from writing. Eyes suspiciously stared into the cracked doorway; it sounded like the pipes were going crazy! You could hear the nauseous groaning of metal from your office. A sizable chunk of the final script revision was finished, so you had time to slide from your chair and wobble nervously to the door. What the Hell was going on out there?

 

There was nothing strange around the corner, but you could make out the sound down the hall. Vibrations made the building shutter as pipes burst. It sounded like the injury was slowly encroaching forward, like a thunderstorm over the hills. Suddenly, a horrible popping sound bounced off the walls just around the next hall, and a deep dark splatter erupted across the floor around the further corner, like blood. A puddle seeped into view, and the disgusting sound of an ink waterfall befell the corridor.

 

You stepped into the hall, brows furrowed. Looking behind you, no one had come to take report of the damage. A sigh. You were tired of this shit. Things kept breaking down, and before long, you were certain something would explode in the ceiling of your office and start oozing through the cracks. Even with production nearly halted, you did not want to see your hard work ruined by a mechanical failure.

 

Feet trudged forward to assess just how bad it was. Then something stopped you in your tracks. It almost sounded like... someone creeping through the liquid. You rose a brow and turned the corner, then screamed with a flail.

 

“Be-Bendy!?” you yelled, as feet nearly slipped on ink.

 

He'd stopped mid-walk and grinned wider. Another pipe rumbled and burst, sending a steady stream of ink dropping thickly onto his head. He didn't even react to it. It almost made him look happier; more at home. He liked the ink.

 

“What are you doing up here? Did you do all this?” you rasped, breathless from the fright.

 

He groaned and reached forward, plopping through an inch of ink that was ever deepening. Stepping back to avoid his hands, you noticed what he was holding. He'd thought to bring his doll upstairs with him. Your heart melted a little, and the anxiousness ebbed. But still, this was an awful mess. He kept coming until you'd rounded the corner backwards.

 

“I'd better tell Wally about the pipes,” you mused aloud, mostly to yourself.

 

Still coming, mindlessly. He just wanted to touch you, but he was simply so _messy._ It wasn't that you didn't want his touch against yours _(oh dear oh dear that's an embarrassing thought oh dear),_ but your outfit was clean and you weren't expecting this intrusion and... you were blushing again! Stumbling feet lead you backwards into your office, but he lingered in the doorway.

 

“Can't believe you left Thomas's room! Ohhh, did anyone see you?” you whispered harshly as he stood dumbly, hand against the frame. “If someone did... you're going to piss Joey off.”

 

Bendy shrugged, his doll loose in the other grip. He did eventually hobble inside, though sluggishly and distracted by his face being plastered everywhere.

 

You found yourself cross-armed by the chair. He explored quietly, and you wondered just how much he recalled from what he once was. “You put all this stuff here, before you'd.. um, changed,” you supplied, as he thumbed at the tattered edge of a poster.

 

His horns twitched with interest. Gazing at the poster brought back a repressed longing within him. He suddenly felt... wrong. As wrong as you'd felt when you'd realized just how deep you'd gotten in. A penguin in the Amazon rainforest, a child in a nursing home, a demon in a mortal plain. He felt trapped here, abandoned and ignored. His gaze swept down.

 

“I'm actually really happy you came up though,” you kept your voice low, trying to remove the smile from your tone. “It's been... lonely.”

 

He jerked as if just now remembering you were there, and that he was in your office. Bendy turned to face you, his likeness still dangling from his hand. He held its stump firmly, like a lifeline to the rooms below and to his former identity. He took a risk to come up. But he'd wanted to hear your voice again, to hear the light there.

 

Your face brightened his spirits. He may be trash to his creator, but he was something to you. Somehow... you were his only friend in this whole world. Even Sammy with his lavish words had never been a friend to him, and the mere mention of his name drove him to immense anger. Out of everyone who handled him, you were the only to treat him like a person. A misguided person with anger issues, but a person nonetheless. To Joey he was a toy, and to Sammy a harbinger. But he could always trust you to talk to him like an individual. Even now.

 

It had taken a lot of courage (and internal monologuing) to make the decision to travel upwards. The dark, maze-like bowels were comforting. They were quiet. They were empty. And after his unwilling reformation, they were the last place he had been with someone who didn't despise his guts for existing. Thomas truly was a kind fellow. It was a sin what Joey did to him.

 

But he did not want to think about his creator, nor the unfortunate fate of Mr. Connor and his partner, not with your big eyes staring upon him. It had only been a few hours since you'd visited his room with the toys, but it felt like days. He came forward, dropping the doll like it was nothing.

 

You laughed in good nature at his opened arms, now that the two of you were in a more private place. Still, you took a few clumsy steps back out of habit, hands coming up.

 

“For something soulless... you sure love to snuggle!” You joked playfully.

 

Boney arms encased you and he gently sat the side of his horns against your hair. A wet sigh escaped him. His appearance may have deformed, and his memory may be spotty, but he'd always enjoy the loveliness of warmth against his cool outer ink. It made things all the better now that you'd stopped being so frightened of how he looked. He wouldn't hurt you. He didn't even think he could, at least not on purpose.

 

You gave in. Who even cared if your clothes were soaked again? Half the staff were missing anyways, who would be around to judge you. And even if they did, it was a simple matter of blaming the recently burst pipes. No one had to know you had been held close by the resident demon. And no one had to know that it set your body ablaze where your skin made contact.

 

You rested your cheek against his collarbone and gently shut your eyes. Ink seemed to crawl down your chin and neck as it soaked into the cracks of your skin, sticky and black. The sensation was weirdly comforting. When you uncertainly rested your hands against his jutting hips he nuzzled into your hair affectionately and wiggled happily.

 

This should be weird. But it wasn't. The act of hugging Bendy settled all too well in your belly and brain, satisfying some urge you hadn't realized you'd been harboring. You'd been missing something since the last time he'd been small. Pure, unadulterated, physical contact. Heaviness on your chest.

 

“I've been thinking of ways to save you,” you broke the silence dreamily. “But it all just feels so hopeless. I can't wrap my head around a way to do it without someone getting hurt along the line. And I.. don't think I could hurt anybody.”

 

He nuzzled some more. Your hair was becoming slicked up like a cowlick.

 

“It's one of the reasons I still come into work, even though I know the cartoons aren't being done. There's not enough staff. Joey can't afford to hire anyone else. I just keep thinking if I sit here long enough, I'll come up with a plan,” you sighed, eyes opening. “But it's not working, Bendy. My mind is blank. What can I do?”

 

A low, deep grumble came from him, like an alligator. You felt the vibrations in his chest travel through your bones, and you shivered. You stood in silence for some while, just thinking and enjoying the ink against your skin. Occasionally his humanoid fingers would run down your back then up. Despite his lack of words, this was all rather soothing. But then his fingers clenched into the fabric of your blouse, and he shook.

 

His wide head lifted from yours. Something felt off here. He was tensing. You made a questioning sound in the back of your throat.

 

The door creaked. “You're out of your room,” came the dark, threatening voice of Sammy Lawrence from behind. “I was searching for you.”

 

You squeaked, but were unable to pull away. Bendy was holding you tightly and protectively against him. All you could do was look over your shoulder, horrified that you'd forgotten to close the door in all the pent up emotions. You were speechless and frozen in place, though you did manage to ball your fists closer to your chest.

 

The man's pupils dilated and shifted down quickly, then jerked back to Bendy's hidden eyes. He hesitated before commenting. “I... don't understand my Lord,” he sounded soft and downtrodden.

 

You were finally able to form words, your face red. “What do you _want_ Sammy?”

 

His eyes narrowed. “That's not important, all that matters is what he wants. Don't you get it by now?” he addressed Bendy again. “How can I ever be enough for you? Haven't I made you happy?”

 

This man was breaking down more each day, his words thickening with odd ideals and off color phrasing. That shake in his voice was starting to freak you out, and Bendy's hold was hard.

 

Sammy added, voice cracking. “Why do you keeping running away from me? Wandering? You should have just stayed put, where you belonged.”

 

Bendy pressed you closer to his body, and it became difficult to breathe. His shoulders hunched and he growled aggressively, trained on Sammy in the doorway. The man nervously took a foot in, and such a harsh snarl spat from Bendy's mouth that you buried your head against him, afraid and out of breath. You felt like a cut of meat between to feral dogs.

 

Sammy swiftly removed himself, frowning deeply. He stared at the scene, taking it all in grudgingly and with much pain. He would never understand the workings of the demon's mind; would never be able to trail happily after his feet. Not without bared fangs. He thought he'd done everything right. The transformation was... just an accident. Yes, an unforeseen consequence of progress. He looked more like himself, now. Bendy was surely merciful, but he was also a terrifying and vengeful force. Sammy did not want to think that Bendy could never forgive him.

 

No matter. Gods and demons worked in mysterious ways. And even if Bendy did favor you, giving you some protection from the powers at work, you were not immune to wrath. Even Sammy could see how roughly Bendy was handling you, in his aggressive outburst.

 

“Bendy won't always be here to save you,” Sammy grumbled, letting out resentment like hot steam. “One day, Joey will use you like he has everyone else. Just like Susie, and Thomas with his wife,” the thought made him grin. “Then _I'll_ be the favorite.”

 

Bendy continued to shake, his hold hard and cutting. He was pissed. His closed, flat maw stickily split and opened, blunt teeth quickly reforming into awful spikes. You could not see it with your head down, but it terrified you when you heard the sloppy sound of his mouth string apart. Bits of slobber plopped onto your head, and you were ever grateful that it wasn't actual saliva.

 

_**I'll eat him I'll eat him I'll eat him I'll eat him I'll eat him-** _

 

If Sammy dared step foot in here again he was dead. But Sammy, a fearful acolyte, squatted somewhat and bowed his head low. He'd gone too far.

 

“...Sorry my Lord... I'm.. I'm sorry,” he begged breathlessly, then rushed off in panic.

 

A minute more moved by. Bendy continued to cling painfully to your clothes, his jaws still menacingly spread. He didn't appear to be calming down. It had always been hard to get him to ease off the gas once he'd been good and riled up by someone.

 

You lifted your head, shaking and wide-eyed. “Bendy,” you wheezed, taking a pained glance back. “He's gone. Please let me go.”

 

He took a long, deep breath, sucking in the stale air as if there were lungs still in that unholy ribcage of his. Then he slowly relaxed his grip and hold. You could breathe again and took the opportunity to revel in that fact. Finally able to step away, you came to terms with just how close you were to those teeth. Sometimes you forgot that as long as you were next to him, there was always the possibility of being bitten. Accidental or not. You weren't as nervous as you once were about those fangs, but they were wonderfully sharp. He was still staring towards the open doorway, as if he could see the ghost of that broken man still lingering in the dusty hall.

 

“He's gone,” you repeated, soothing uncertainly. “You scared him away, calm down now, Bendy. It's alright,” your hand rubbed down his long, boney arms.

 

Attention drifted back to you, his jaws just barely settling together. There were still sharp and very willing to re-open. Swallowing, you showed a great deal of trust by lifting a shaky hand to his cheek, right next to his terrifying mouth. He tilted his head, and the shaking stopped.

 

“Next time... let's just close the door.”

 

Your patience awed him.

 


	15. Eyes Eyes Eyes

Bendy kept lurking around your floor after that, frightening the few remaining staff with his intimidating presence. Subsequently, there was another bout of quitting. Joey would clock in less and less, and when he did he'd never leave his office. Once, you'd caught him before he'd sped off into isolation, but had barely gotten a few uncomfortably aggressive replies before he had predictably absconded.

 

“Mr. Drew!” You'd flagged him down, flailing a wrist and speeding up. “My paycheck was late this week, will there be more layoffs?”

 

His brows furrowed with frustration and he hobbled faster. “Ah [Y/N!] Just the one I've been meaning to see!” he changed the subject masterfully. “How's the new cartoon? Handed the script off to the storyboard department yet?” He sounded uncomfortable.

 

That in turn had made you angry. You gawked, easily keeping up with his uneven three-legged gait. “You're changing the subject! And what about Bendy?”

 

He slammed his cane down hard as he walked. “What about him?”

 

“What will happen to him when-”

 

You were going to say 'when the studio ultimately fails,' but his face reddened and he cut you off (as old, angry men do) with a sharp, gruff: _“Women who know nothing about mens' affairs should keep their mouths shut!”_

 

And there it was. He fled into his office and slammed the door violently, locking it behind him. The bang bounced along the walls, carrying the sound of Joey's irritation onward. Had anyone been on their way to see him, they'd have certainly heard it and turned tail. No one wanted to confront an irritated Joey, and once that included you as well. But standing at his locked door just found murder bubbling in your heart. Theoretical murder, of course!

 

You felt the days were dragging on to a head.

 

Sitting quietly among the vacant storyboarding room with Bendy made dread set in. He leaned his hips against a table, admiring a sheet of paper in hand. Slowly, the ink from his fingers etched through the white, but until it consumed the whole sheet he could enjoy looking at himself. Sometimes you wondered if he was aware just how strange he appeared. Nothing like that cartoon on the paper, not anymore. But it made him happy to pretend.

 

You smiled despite how the dreariness of the room soured your mood. This was where your co-workers once congregated. They would lean over their desks, slaving away for one Mr. Joey Drew. Working nine hours a day, sometimes longer, with no overtime. You could almost see the shape of a man still glued to his chair, chatting up a storm while doodling. And now without them, you knew it was really over. There weren't even any ink employees on this floor anymore. Where had they gone?

 

It didn't matter if there were two or three musicians left, including Sammy himself. It didn't matter if Mr. Polk still lorded over the reels, or if Wally still mopped the halls. It didn't even matter that you remained, final draft on your desk, waiting to be read, re-read, and approved. Paychecks were coming in late, and you heard-tell a few didn't even go through. When it comes to the day a late pay check becomes a no-show, you'd have to start revising your sparse resume. But Bendy...

 

The two of you lingered in the comfortable silence, thinking. After a while you destroyed that silence. You told him what happened with Joey. He showed some interest, the chubby fingers of his glove drumming behind him.

 

“You know he's trying to get rid of you,” you laughed disdainfully. “As if he could get rid of a demon.”

 

Bendy, too, found that humorous. It made the anger burning within him at the thought of Joey's resentfulness less prominent. Who did that man think he was? Bendy was forever. He was not bound by time or physicality. Time would not see him wrinkle or hunch, the mortal world could not kill him. He would return to a pure state, somewhere else, somewhere no human could touch, at least no living human. That is, if Joey could return him there at all. Bendy rumbled, like a purr.

 

“We have to do something about him.”

 

Bendy's horn twitched, and he actually looked at you. The demon slowly sat down the paper (mostly black by now) and leaned forward, listening.

 

You twiddled your fingers and lowered your voice. “I still don't want to see him die, I mean,” you studied the floor, nibbling your lip. “I might be sorta... bias, since I'm so close to you. I can't claim I'm sinless anymore. But I just couldn't stomach having that on my heart.”

 

He continued to listen, his head tilting minutely. The only sound came from his drip and the creaking of ventilation.

 

“But we still have to do _something,_ ” you slapped a fist against a palm. In the deadly quiet it was thunder. A call to action.

 

Bendy growled and straightened. His processing had become quicker, though perhaps he would always remain light headed. Always a little confused. But make no mistake, he was aware, and he understood everything said to him. Sometimes he didn't care, and it prompted no reaction. Other times, like you demanding change to an audience of one, required his full attentiveness. He was growing restless.

 

Joey was a problem; he was the source of all the campus' aches and pains. He was a tumor upon holy grounds- _Bendy's_ holy grounds- sucking dry any chance of happiness. And he may have brought Bendy forth, may have conjured his form up from the lifeless sludge, but Bendy did not bow to him. He bowed to no one. Not even the high ranks of Hell; he was stubborn, jesteresque, a demon to be avoided. Some could say annoying. Well, at the very least, humans were too nervous about him to notice this quality, perhaps save for you. He shook his head, throwing away off topic notions.

 

“If there was a way to corner him,” you tapped your chin. “He could be intimidated into... I don't know, resigning? Selling the company? Perhaps under threat of law. And then I could,” your eyes drifted aimlessly, nervous. “Take care of you somehow.”

 

But all Bendy heard was 'corner.' He nodded grimly, the edges of his grin spreading. The demon had more sway over the building than knowable. His reach could expand some distance, gently feeling the walls as if they were his skin, and though the reach was limited it was further than any human. It helped when ink coated the walls and floors. Cornering somebody was child's play at this point. Hoping this would please you, he wandered over to your pondering form on silent feet.

 

You were startled for but a moment, his dark mass making you stumble from your musings. Embarrassingly, his proximity unwillingly made you smile. You ended up standing so as not to feel so tiny in the wooden chair. Bendy seemed to stare longer than is comfortable, before slowly reaching a hand up to plop into your hair.

 

You squealed and grabbed his bony hand carefully, quickly lifting it away. “I'm not fond of sticky hair you know!” you scolded.

 

Bendy grunted gently in response. It seemed he was prepared to abruptly switch to hand holding then, as he refused to let go. Even prompting didn't get his fingers to relax off of yours. You were speechless and red in the face. Dropping your hands, you batted big doe eyes over your nose.

 

“You've put some spell on me, haven't you? You stupid monster,” but there was no venom in it.

 

He lifted his chin and shrugged, like he wanted to laugh at the idea. Before he could make up his mind to decrease the horrible distance separating you, you gave his hand a little tug.

 

“Come on,” you sighed, sadly. “Let's get back to my office. I'm tired of this place.”

 

The clock tick-tocked on and on, dragging out the day as if it were a century. Even with your little demon (he was still a cartoon in your heart) present to soften the blow, time was a misery here. The vacancy was just so unsettling. No knocks at the door, save for Sammy the evening before. No calls to hurry it up with the drafts. The only reason you came in was for the demon at your side. You felt that he would become lonesome were you to leave- who else would look after him? And that went both ways. Your body ached and fingers twitched.

 

When time did come to clock out, it was reluctant despite the long, quiet day. However, there was an issue. As you made way to the top floor, purse hanging heavily over your shoulder, there was a small gathering by the front doors. A security officer (one of the few left) was kicking the handle violently. He became more angry with every outburst, until he balled his fists and stomped his feet, cursing. The older ladies present pretended not to hear.

 

Your brows furrowed and you arrived at the scene reluctantly. “What's going on?”

 

People who noticed your arrival made way and turned their eyes. No one wanted to be too close to you, given your... increasingly creepy circumstances. You were never short of stains.

 

One of the animators who had stuck through it all crossed his arms, side-eyeing you anxiously. “The door is stuck,” he mumbled.

 

You unintentionally mimicked the uncomfortable body language, and leaned against one leg. “How is it stuck? Did someone lock us in? Where's Wally?”

 

Those were too many questions. The man sighed in exhaustion and pretended not to hear you. Suddenly the clank of keys brought hope to the crowd, as Wally sluggishly drug himself into the room. A younger man followed after, having presumably gone to fetch him.

 

“I'm comin' I'm comin', hold yer horses fellas,” he grumped, fiddling for the right key. “How in the world did this get locked anyways?”

 

“It was just like that,” fretted a receptionist.

 

He gave a grand “ah-ha” as he held up the correct key. Everybody stepped to the side and gave him space as he jammed it into the hole. Hands wriggled, twisted the knob and pulled. No luck.

 

“Huh,” he commented curiously. “That's funny. Must'a been the wrong key! Let's see here,” he messed with the hoop again. “Nope, that's gotta be the right one! Weird.”

 

“Maybe we should try the back door,” suggested a musician.

 

All in agreement, a trek was made on to the back door of the building. There was no luck there, either. People were becoming increasingly upset, the security officer was particularly angry.

 

“I'll call for help,” he said, hastily leaving for the corded telephones back near reception.

 

The crowd wandered on after his heels, preferring the open space.

 

You were no longer offended by the wide girth others gave you. It was generous air to think, your brain coming up with odd conclusions to the happenings. You tried not to get ahead of yourself.

 

Wally rudely took one of the reception chairs, arms propping his head. “As soon as that doors open, I'm outta here!”

 

Someone groaned.

 

It took no time for the officer to return, his face scrunched and body tense. “Damn it! The lines are down too!”

 

“Has there been an accident maybe?” asked a frightened woman. “We should check the radio!”

 

You stayed behind with Wally as the others crowded into the officer's room to give it a listen. Wally put his feet up on the desk and started to chew a toothpick, as if he were raised in a barn. You kept your distance, mind moving on despite your attempted restraint, coming up with the worst case scenarios.

 

Perhaps someone had barred the doors from the outside with metal? Or a tree had collapsed in front of the door? But neither case made all that sense. The officer would have still been able to kick the wood from its hinges, at the very least. But it had not budged, not one bit. It was if a brick wall had been erected beyond the door. You nibbled your bottom lip, wall-eyed.

 

“So ah,” started Wally casually. “You still following after that big blob of ink?”

 

You blinked away the thoughts. “Huh? Oh, you mean Bendy,” a long pause. “...Yeah. Sort of.”

 

He nodded, trying not to make the conversation awkward. “Don't mean to offend a lady but, your friend's sorta a bastard! Leaking everywheeere and breaking all the piiipes. I always gotta big mess to clean up when I clock in! And Joey's always on me about it too,” he began to mock the man, doing his best impression. “Wally, stop screwing the pooch and do your job! I don't pay you to sit on your ass!”

 

You chuckled in your throat. Wally smiled and twirled the chair a bit, and it was quiet again. You could hear the little group chatting and whispering quietly over the sound of radio announcers.

 

“Really though, I get it,” Wally suddenly went on. “Cause let's be honest here... Joey's even more of a bastard than his 'star,' my checks been late three times in a row!”

 

You weren't much listening to him now. Wally was a funny young man, but he could change subjects and complain like nobody's business. As he prattled on, a few people broke from the group and came back into the room, eyes empty and downcast. They distracted enough to keep Wally from continuing.

 

“Well?” you asked one of the women.

 

She couldn't even look at you, but at least dignified you with a response. “Nothing, same ol' same ol'.”

 

So there was no indication of issue on the radio. No car accidents, no freak weather or wind. And then Sammy came to clock out, after having already stayed nearly an hour overtime. When he saw the crowd, he too questioned the problem.

 

“Well we tried the keys,” commented Wally, straightening a little. He was put off by Sammy, too.

 

“And did anyone think to call for help?” he sounded irritated.

 

Not liking his tone, the officer growled. “Do you think we're dumb?”

 

Wally interrupted, peeping. “H-hey,”

 

Sammy tapped his foot and rolled his eyes. “What about the radio?”

 

“Guys?” Wally tried again.

 

A musician attempted to deescalate the frustration between the two men with a soothing voice. “Yes, we tried the radio. Thee was nothing unusual, no strange reports, no-”

 

“Guys I'm serious!” Wally rose his voice.

 

All at once everyones' attention was on the scrawny little janitor, before following his point outward. An ooze leaked from the cracks of the wall, blackening it and seeping down to the floors. It squirmed and moved, like an amorphous solid with a mind of its own.

 

A woman gasped and nearly fell. “Wh-what is that!”

 

But you knew what it was. Of course you knew what it was. Everyone had mere seconds, and that was not enough time to offer a calming word. Even if you could, there would be no point, for everyone was frightened to bits of who you knew was about to make an appearance. Still, this surprised even you. You froze, wide-eyed, and floundered to say something. Anything.

 

A wide inky hole spread over the wood. Someone screamed, and a familiar face poked out, head first. His hands gripped the sides as he glanced around at all the terrified human expressions, before slowing sinking out into the light. Bendy had decided to give a visit.

 

With the building breaking down and all the awful luck, all the layoffs and the disappearances, Bendy was not a welcomed sight. He absolutely drove everybody mad. Especially when they were locked inside. They were stuck with him, in this building, with nowhere to run. The woman who had screamed suddenly fainted and was caught by an animator.

 

“Stop!” the officer lifted his baton, the only weapon he carried. Even he shook with fright.

 

Someone cried out. “ _He's_ locked us in!”

 

Of course they were not wrong. But it wasn't them he was trying to catch. Bendy seemed to pay no one much mind, instead searching the room for... something.

 

Afraid the officer would attack, you stepped between them and held your palms up innocently. “He won't hurt anybody! N-no need for all of this! Please, calm down! He's just curious!”

 

The man was suddenly in conflict, dropping his guard but retaining the charged stance. He grit his teeth and glared.

 

“Devil worshiper,” hissed one of the older women, helping to fan the lady who had passed out.

 

Sammy hadn't even moved yet. Instead, he appeared to have frozen in place with tension. Wally, quite the opposite, had slipped away as soon as Bendy came through the portal. Suddenly Bendy's gaze stopped over Sammy's. Sammy swallowed and dropped his eyes. Still frightened and upset from the last encounter, he uncertainly lowered his head and unsteadily settled to his knees in submission.

 

“Sammy?” One of his remaining band members asked softly. “What are you doing?”

 

The nervous man remained deathly still, preferring to keep tight lipped. He did not want to incur the wrath of those teeth a second time, even if he was resentful.

 

The officer had been distracted by the concerning display. The baton trembled in his fists as you reached forward slowly, attempting to defuse this.

 

“Please put it down,” you asked.

 

His head snapped back and he tightened his grip. There was a long, thick moment of hesitation. Slowly, the baton was let down. “I can't hurt a woman.”

 

You had not known he'd even been considering it. Your mouth was dry and the people were keeping to the edges, some had even followed Wally's example and fled further into the building. You thought all was well, but the officer suddenly swung his baton back into position and steeled himself.

 

“Stay back!” he growled through teeth.

 

“H-huh?” you held up your palms and took an unsteady step backwards, but you found yourself bumping into Bendy's wet chest. He seemed to tower over you, focused on only the aggressive man in front.

 

“I said stay back, devil!” his hands gripped the baton so hard it hurt.

 

Defiantly, Bendy growled violently and gripped your shoulder. He did not like his most dear possession being threatened. The man swung with every muscle in his body towards Bendy's looming face, and when you ducked down and yelped, the demon displayed a rare show of reaction.

 

_Twump._

 

The baton sunk into the ink between his thumb and pointer as he absorbed the blow into his hand.

 

“Shit!” cursed the officer. He tugged, and it didn't budge.

 

You could not help yourself. As you stepped aside to see what had happened, you laughed. Actually _laughed_ at this frightened man's burst of violence withering before everyone's eyes. You could see the color drain from his face as Bendy ripped the weapon away and broke it in half like a twig. His strength was unnatural. Bendy's mouth gaped and he crammed down the toy as a delicious treat. It splintered and crunched grossly.

 

From the sidelines, someone unevenly called for the man to get away. After all, picking fights with demons was an awful idea. But you could sense his increasing frustration, and as he ignored the advice and struck out with a fist, you knew things were about to go south.

 

Bendy gurgled thoughtfully, barely responsive to the sensation of a man's tense fist being enveloped just below his ribcage. The hand got stuck there, sinking forward into his guts, and the officer started to panic when it would not come out. Bendy gripped his wrist, and he screamed.

 

“Oh please don't break his arm,” you requested through barely hidden giggles, unsure what had gotten into you. The purse nearly slid from your shoulder as they jostled.

 

He sighed and drooped. Black slowly swallowed up the officer's forearm before Bendy forcibly removed it from his ink guts, earning a delightful cry of pain. The man fell to his ass and gripped the pitch black arm. Tendrils of ink were snaking up his forearm and shoulder's veins, and he was nearly hyperventilated with panic. The fight had left him.

 

You exhaled in relief. All the people had grown unnervingly still, eyes unmoving from the whimpering man and the tall figure hovering over him. They had nothing more to say to you. This man was an example, and you couldn't help but believe that were you not here, Bendy would have done much worse. You crossed your arms and cleared your throat, the laughter back where it belonged- inside and repressed.

 

“Did you do this?” You gestured towards the door. “Did you lock everybody inside?”

 

He swayed loosely, following your hands with hidden eyes. Then he gave a nod, and turned his attention to the stunned crowed huddled across the room. They all tensed and became smaller. Even Sammy, who sat away from the group, continued to keep himself low and unimportant before his Lord, despite his grin.

 

“Bendy,” you called quietly. “to what end?”

 

There was not a face he cared about among these mundane people. Not a one. Just unimportant, groveling mice, all throwing ugly expressions his way like blunt knives, and judging every minute movement of hand or horn.

 

Bendy groaned with frustration, tearing open a portal where the first had originally been. Ink seemed to crawl from it, sinking into the surrounding walls and floor. Someone gasped in fear, as if afraid Bendy was summoning his minions straight from Hell to pounce and devour their souls. It would be funny if Bendy cared. Instead, he just turned drearily and shuffled for his opening.

 

“Bendy?”

 

He glanced over his shoulder at you, pausing at the mouth and waiting. As if he knew you were going to follow him like a good dog. Follow you did, sparing your peers no more thought as you stepped in after the demon. Where was he taking you now? Wherever it was, you hoped it had fewer eyes.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Felt bad leaving y'all hanging, so put out 3 at once. But you'll have to wait a bit for the next chapters. I'm only up to ch 17...


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